


Daughter of Hades

by Drownedinlight



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/F, F/M, Trans Character, Trans!Nico
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drownedinlight/pseuds/Drownedinlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a while, things in Nico's life seemed pretty simple. But now there are shades running amok, Hades is on her back, and Hera has given her boobs.</p>
<p>Nico has decided she's okay with that last development.</p>
<p>Written for the PJO Riptide Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transition/Transformation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Butterflies Drink of the Dew of Your Thighs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/347276) by [creepy_crawly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly). 



Hera’s summons for me came on April First, if you can believe it. I actually sort of thought Hermes was pulling a prank at first and asked him as much. “No offense, Lord Hermes, but is this a joke?”

“Nope,” Hermes said, popping the “p” in his cheek. “Lady Hera asked me to personally deliver it to you. Says she wants you there as soon as you can come.”

Getting to Olympus wouldn’t exactly be a difficult thing— did live in New York after all. Dad had set me up in a studio apartment in Washington Heights. I have no idea how he paid my rent, but my landlord knew I existed, so it wasn’t some trick of the mist. Maybe it had something to do with the magical wallet Dad had given me—I had a credit and debit card with my name on it which both worked just fine. In any case, I could take the train and get to the Empire State Building in less than an hour.

“Ah, well, thank you Lord Hermes,” I said. “I’ll be sure to report there as soon as I get dressed.” Embarrassingly, the messenger god had caught me in my underwear and sleep shirt—in my defense, it was barely ten in the morning.

“Not at all, kid, it’s my job.” He looked me up and down for a moment. “But, if you ask me, you might want to dress in something nicer than you’re used to.” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself dressed in a three piece, charcoal grey suit with a poppy red tie. “Brush your hair, and you’ll be on your way. Hermes out!” He gave me a two finger salute and flew out the window.

I ran my hands over the nice suit, smoothing out the creases in the fabric. Standing, I walked toward my full length mirror to get a better look at myself. The suit was well cut for my body, which was still lanky, though I had grown, and put on some muscle and fat since the last autumn. But despite how good the suit looked on me, I hated it. I hated it, because it looked good.

“Nothing I can do about it right now...” I murmured.

I decided to take Hermes advice and comb down my unruly hair. It had started to curl at the ends, which gave me hope that when I grew it out it would be nice and curly, much like my mother’s had been. But it wouldn’t due to look unruly in front of the queen of the gods. I was already my father’s child—I didn’t need to give her another reason to hate me. I buckled on my Stygian Iron blade and got on my way.

I shadow traveled to the Empire State building, so I wouldn’t have the chance to fight any monsters on my way there. I asked for the 500th floor, like you do, and soon enough arrived on Olympus. Olympus looked much the same, since the Second Titanomachy. It was practically a stroll in the park, finding Hera’s temple, or mansion or whatever it was—I didn’t even run in to anyone asking me who I was or what I was do there.

The simplicity and good luck of it all made me uneasy. I never had good luck—at best my life was consistently “meh.” I was okay with “meh,” really. It was when things went to “shit, fuck, no, no, no, no, no,” that I had a problem with. And the “no”s usually began right after a string of  good luck.

Hebe waited for me at the entrance of Hera’s temple. I bowed to her, but when I rose I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. “You don’t owe me such respect, Nico,” she said.

“I owe no one my respect, Lady Hebe,” I replied with a smile. “But I give it to those I think are deserving.”

Hebe flushed a little darker, perhaps not used to someone paying her attention. Taking me by the arm, she led me inside to where I found not one, not two, but five goddesses awaiting me. Persephone and Demeter reclined on couches that were catty-corner to one another, while Aphrodite lay in between Hera and Athena, who both sat in comfortable looking chairs. There was one chair left available between the Mother goddess and my own stepmother.

“My lady,” said Hebe, drawing their attention. “Nico di Angelo has come to see you.”

I bowed. My face flushed at the attention, and I tried to fight it back as I straightened up.

Persephone stood to greet me with open arms. “Nico!” she cried, hugging me. “You’ve grown so much since I saw you a few months ago.”

“Yes, step-mother,” I replied. Persephone and I were on better terms than we had been when we first met, but she mostly blew lukewarm, or cold at me. She had never been so endearing to me.

She giggled, taking my arm to walk me over to the gathering of goddesses. “And your voice is cracking a little! How adorable—you’re becoming a man, Nico. Soon, you’ll be just as tall and stately as your father.”

I smiled as best I could, but I hated it when people pointed out that I was “becoming a man.” “Thank you,” I said anyway. “There’s a lot in my Lord Father which I aspire to be.”

“And a lot you don’t?” Athena asked.

I think she was joking, but I mulled over my answer a bit before I spoke. “One learns much from the example of parents, takes what one wishes to keep and leaves what one wishes to change.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Well said.”

“Thank you, Lady Athena.”

Persephone pointed me to a chair between her chaise and Hera’s seat. I unbuttoned my suit jacket and sat. Taking a glass of wine and nectar from Hebe when she offered it to me, “I nodded to her. “Thank you,” I said.

She smiled again, nodding back at me.

“We were actually just talking of you, Nico,” Persephone told me.

“You were?” That did not sound good.

Hera smiled to me, taking my free hand in her own. “Persephone was telling us about a conversation you were having with your father. What was it you were saying, Persephone?”

“It would have been in mid-February,” said Persephone, ticking off her fingers. “The two of you were arguing a little bit, and you were trying to explain about something concerning ‘privilege.’”

“Oh.” My stomach had been dropping with each passing moment, but now that I knew what they spoke of, the storm inside me calmed and my unease passed. Since I had come out to myself, and I had sort of come out to Jason, I had begun researching on the LGBTQIA community, which led to me researching other oppressed groups. Father had found one of my books, which I had left in the underworld, and asked after the premise. It was a basic volume talking about the privilege different groups received. Dad had naturally picked a fight with me over whether that’s the way things really were. I took a sip of my drink. “I remember what you’re talking about.”

“Persephone could not quite recall the finer points of your argument,” said Demeter. She sat erect as she spoke, leaning forward slightly toward me. “We were wondering if you could explain the rhetoric of your premise toward us.”

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Well, um, it’s not really my premise, but it is social theory, and I think it really means something. The basic idea that I was trying to get Father to see was that privilege is basically the understanding that one group receives special benefits for one aspect of who they are, and not really by merit.”

“And...do you support this theory?” Athena inquired. She did not look at me as she asked, but instead she ran a finger along the rim of her glass.

“Yes, I think they are correct,” I replied. I nodded and took another drink of the nectar-wine.

“And, you gave your father an example, do you remember what that was?” Persephone asked. She leaned forward onto my shoulder.

My stomach began to turn again, and not from the wine either.

“Um, I was talking about men and women. How men are seen as normal, and women are seen as abnormal, or are made to be the ‘other’ group.”

Athena leaned forward, squinting at me, as if trying to see a spot somewhere on my face or on the suit. “Nico, are you certain you agree with this line of thinking?”

I should have paused at this moment and wondered why a group of six goddesses were questioning me so much, especially on a subject like privilege. I should have asked if they really understood what I meant, but I guess I didn’t realize that, to them, it sounded like I was denouncing all women as inferior. Instead, I immediately said, “Of course!”

Hera looked around me to Persephone. “Well,” said the Queen of the gods. “I didn’t quite believe any mortal man could be so foolish. But he is the son of Hades.”  
I flinched at this statement—partly because of what she had said, and partly because of the ominous way she had said it. Hera stood, coming in front of me. “Stand up, Nicola son of Hades.”

I stood, able to face her, but not do much else. Hera reached out and tapped me on the forehead. “For your blatant lack of regard for the female gender, I am punishing you. This punishment shall not be reversed for the rest of your days, by myself or any other. I swear on the River Styx that it will be so.” She muttered something about someone called “Teiresias,” before she looked me dead on. “Have you anything to say for yourself now?”

I opened my mouth to acknowledge that perhaps they didn’t really understand what I had been talking about, or didn’t know what privilege was, and maybe what I had been saying had come out as horrible, misogynistic nonsense. Instead, as I felt the vomit gurgle in my stomach, I announced, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Before I could get away from Hera (now was probably not the best time to be puking on the Queen of the gods) a bowl was shoved in front of my face. I puked. It went on for a minute or two, I would wretch, vomit, pause, begin again. When I finally managed to look up, I saw Hebe holding the bowl for me, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Thank you,” I managed to croak with my rubbed-raw-throat.

“Hebe, be rid of that,” Hera ordered, waving the cupbearer away. “I admit I was not expecting such a...volatile reaction...” she murmured.

“Some mortals don’t take to well to full body transformation,” said Athena. She took a pitcher in her hands, and poured a glass filled with water. “Here, Nico, rinse your mouth.”

I drank the water and tried not to puke again. My throat felt a little better, but only a little as the acid from my own bile still remained. “I don’t understand, what transformation?” I asked.

Persephone giggled. “Since you were so disrespectful to women, Queen Hera made you a woman.”

I blinked, turning toward Persephone. “One is not made a woman or a man or any other gender. Gender is a social construct that happens to be associated with certain parts of culture.” And because I was feeling sassy, and my brain to mouth filter is never the best when I’m not feeling well, I added, “Besides, you can’t have made me into a woman, because I already was one.”

“Enough!” Hera glowered at me. “Cease your insults and leave, daughter of Hades, before I turn you into something else.”

With permission to leave, I bowed again, and then slipped into a shadow. I didn’t stop until I was at home, in front of my toilet. Unceremoniously, I puked again, only this time it was only once, though I dry heaved several times. I waited until I was done before I stumbled toward the sink to rinse out my mouth. Whatever kind of transformation Hera had done to me, it certainly made me feel weak, much like I had when I was first learning to control the gifts my father gave me.

I summoned the strength to move enough around the apartment to do a few things: 1) get ambrosia, saltines and two large bottles of water from the kitchen; 2) place all items on my bedside table; and 3) strip off my god made suit. I lay in bed for sometime, feeling as if, at any moment, I might pass out, and munched on the saltines. When enough time had passed that I could be sure that I wouldn’t puke, I ate some ambrosia. With the crackers, it tasted like peanut butter and honey, and I was tempted to eat too much. Instead, I drank almost half a liter of water.

Then I passed out.

I went in and out of consciousness for sometime. Will Solace later told me that it was a good thing I had a strong will to live, and occasionally ate more than just crackers, or my self medicating and lack of proper care might have killed me. As it was, I had no concept of time, and so when my phone rang reminding me that I had a meeting with Dad, it was April fourth.

(A side note I should mention here, for those reading this, who have read previous accounts of demigods. It’s true that in the past, technology has worked very much against demigods. Anything wireless, like a cell phone, gives off a signal to monsters when the demigod uses it. As such, in the past, this has meant that demigods tend to avoid a lot of wireless technology.

Well, after the Feast of Spes 2009 and the Romans and the Greeks made peace with each other, a bunch of really bored, really smart demigods: many Athenians, Hephestians and Vulcans among them, decided they wanted technology that works for demigods without giving us away. Some of you reading this may also wonder how I got one, since after the War of Gaea and Giants, I swore off going to the camps. My little sister likes to talk with me, alright? She worries. Plus, Dad will never admit it, but he likes that I’m at his beck and call without any theatrics.

End sidenote.)

I rolled over in the bed, wondering how that could be, but in all honesty the days had sort of passed with a blur. After a long time of staring at my phone in disbelief, I sat up in bed, more awake, and ready to devour a horse’s worth of food.

I began making breakfast while still dressed in my shorts and the undershirt Lord Hermes had transfigured for me. That was sort of when I noticed. Of all things, my hair gave it away, but it still took a few times of me brushing the long curly strands out of my face when I was trying to whisk the pancake batter together before I really figured it out. When I finally realized that my hair was much longer than it should be, I place my mixing bowl on the counter, turned off the stove and walked calmly to the bathroom.

I stood in front of the mirror.

I admit it, I screamed.

But wouldn’t you? My hair was much longer, past my shoulders and curling all the way, making my undercut stand out much more dramatically when I parted my hair to the side. My face came to more of a point on my jaw, and my cheekbones stood more pronounced. I was roughly the same height (a little taller in fact) and the same width, but my body curved different.

My hips stood out wider, my shoulders were narrower, my thighs were bigger, and yes, two fleshy orbs the size of oranges hung off of my chest. I took off my shirt to look at them better, and yeah to fondle them a little. It felt almost a little like I had sand in my chest, but from my reading I knew that was just fat and milk glands. It was when I began to fondle them a little more that I felt a very familiar feeling in my loins.

I shucked my shorts.

There, standing partial erect was my penis.

I screamed a little again.

The odd remarks Hera had made days ago had just begun to make sense. At first I thought she had been making them just to mock me, but upon seeing my new appearance, I realized that she had tried to transform my body into cis female figure. I batted curiously at my penis. Only, it hadn’t quite worked, I guess?

I was actually a little relieved to see my penis still intact. Since realizing I was trans, I had thought about how far I would have liked to go in changing my body. After almost a year of thinking about it, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to get bottom surgery. Breasts, I decided would need to wait until I was done with puberty, maybe into my twenties. But bottom surgery didn’t appeal to me, and from what I had read, many trans women thought that way, and so I felt comforted about that choice.

“But you still don’t make sense, piccolo...” I murmured, giving it a thoughtful stroke. If Hera had meant to make me a cis-woman, then why did I still have a dick? Further more, how would my estrogen and testosterone work now? “Fuck, this is making my head spin.”

Actually, that might have been that I really did need to eat something. I got dressed and went back to mixing pancakes.

I ate a whole stack of pancakes, two oranges, three poached eggs. Every time I thought I had overeaten, my stomach rumbled a little more to remind me that I was still hungry. Finally, I had to stop so that I would have time to get ready to meet Dad on time.

I showered, testing my new soprano voice with “Sempre libere,” from La traviata, and found washing my hair was a new adventure. With it longer and more curly, it was difficult to know if I had washed it all sufficiently. I ended up washing it twice. When I was finished washing, I thought about what to do with it, and realized that I was just going to have to let it air dry and leave it down for the day. But I liked the way the curly hair fell just past my shoulders, and when i parted it to one side, it showed off my undercut. Nodding to myself in the mirror, I started on my makeup.

To anyone who has ever done makeup, this might seem like a bad idea to you—a young trans woman doing her makeup the first time before she meets with her Father, the Lord of the Underworld. But, it wasn’t my first time, so lay your worries aside. I went pretty light, just some basic layers of concealer, foundation and powder, then eyeliner, mascara, a little shadow, and then finally a nude color for my lips.  It looks pretty good, mostly because there wasn’t much to screw up.

Doing a quick time check, I found myself a little ahead of schedule. That gave me just enough time to agonize over what I would wear, and iron out anything that was wrinkled. I debated wearing the suit Hermes gave me, along with several other staple outfits I had. But as I looked through my closet I wondered to myself, did I want to wear the clothes I had accumulated while I had been passing as a boy?

Simple answer: no.

So, instead, I pulled out a dress, underwear, stockings, thicker socks and a pair of combat books (hey, I was going to the Underworld after all). I would have to go braless, since the few I did own were too small for me now. The stockings and socks were black, matching my combat boots, but my dress was a bit more complicated. It was a light purple, with a lavender lace overlay and came above my knees. It was the first dress I had ever bought, and thankfully, after my growth spurt it still fit. I shrugged on a jacket, more for protection than for warmth, and pulled on the belt for the Black Sword.

Buckling on my sword felt eerily similar to three days ago when I went to answer Hera’s summons. But despite my Dad being Lord of the Underworld, he had never hurt me. Could I trust him not to hurt others? That depended on those others. There had been harsh words over the past few years, but Dad had never hurt me or transfigured me physically. The stygian iron still gave me comfort as I felt the weight of the cold metal against my leg.

I took one last look in the mirror to make sure that nothing was too amiss. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the shadows and traveled deep down into the underworld.

 

I came out near Dad’s palace. I didn’t shadow travel into the palace anymore, because some of the skeleton warriors and shades automatically think I’m an intruder. Then Dad has to come and bail me out—yeah, not a fun ordeal. In any case, the walk to the palace from where I usually come up is not a bad one. The shades will always let me in when I show them the silver skull ring Dad had given me, and then I have my run of the place.

Dad asked that I meet him in the dining hall, but when I arrived, I saw he was not alone. Lord Thanatos was there, which was pretty normal. Thanatos pretty much had second command in the Underworld after Dad, and if I was being sent on an errand, than Thanatos would likely debrief me as well.

His second companion was Persephone.

This was a little weird, because if you know your mythology, you’d know my step-mom spends spring with her mother, Demeter. The only time I had ever seen her around in the summer was during the Second Titanomachy, when Dad had locked up the Underworld for our protection.

I cleared my throat and advanced into the room. When Dad looked up I bowed to him. “Lord and Father, Lord Thanatos...stepmother.”

When I rose, Dad was already out of his seat and coming toward me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, so that he could hold me in place as he looked me over. After a few minutes he asked, “What did you do?”  but the words were soft, meant only for me. Dad wasn’t accusing me of anything, he was genuinely curious.

“Complements of Lady Hera,” I replied. “I made her angry, she gave me breasts.”

It’s not often I make my father laugh, but now he threw his head back in an uproar. “Oh, that does sound quite like my sister. What was your transgression?”

I shook my head. “A mistake I think. I was trying to explain to them male privilege, and instead made myself sound like a misogynist.”

Dad furrowed his brow in confusion. “And how did you manage that?”

“I suppose I’ll never be a great speaker or politician,” I said. “I thought they understood that I was coming from a perspective that things are bad, and because I understand that they’re bad that’s good. But they thought that I thought the bad things were good. Do you see?”

Father shook his head. “You’re right, you’ll never be a speaker. Come, sit, Thanatos and I have much to discuss with you.”

I followed him to the table. Dad sat at the head, Persephone at the foot. There were only two other chairs, one each around the other sides of the table. To his right sat Thanatos, so I slipped my jacket off and hung it on the chair to Dad’s left. I felt his fingers ghost over my shoulders, goosebumps rising along side the ink there. He frowned, but pulled out my chair for me.

Thanatos looked up from fiddling with his iPad as I sat and smiled at me. “Why, Nico, how lovely you look.”

“Thank you, Thanatos.” I grinned at him, and Thanatos grinned back.

“She’s sixteen, Thanatos,” said my father, putting an end to any flirtation. For good measure, he turned to me, repeating, “You are sixteen, Nico.”

“Technically, I’m seventy-nine,” I replied.

“Sixteen,” he repeated.

“Yes, dear.” Persephone rolled her eyes and sat up from where she had been slouching in her chair. “We all know how old Nico is. You were saying about her mission?”

Father took his seat, clearing his throat as he went. “Yes, well.” He stopped to shoot a glare at Thanatos, who pretended to be looking something up on his iPad. “Nico,” he said turning toward me. “You know we are still cleaning up the effects of Thanatos’ capture.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I do.”

“There are some shades who still evade us,” Thanatos added, looking up from his tablet.  He turned it toward me as it scrolled through a list of names and sketched portraits. “We have made sure they are unaccounted for, but I have not been able to sense them in the mortal realm. This has led your lord father and I to several conclusions.”

“The first is that the shades must have found a way to take mortal form,” said Father. He gestured with his hand creating a figure of light encased in a shadowy human form in the air. “A shade is naught much more than vapor and soul, at least to the eyes of a god. It grants them some physical form, but nothing like a human body does.”

“It also makes them much easier to seek out,” said Thanatos. “Recapturing those who had managed to take on a mortal body, either through some deal with the enemy, or other means was difficult because their ‘deadness,’ I suppose you could say, was much more difficult to sense.”

“But you have done that,” I said. “I’ve done that.” Sensing shades in mortal form might have been difficult, but even I could do it with enough time and proximity. It had been a pain in the butt convincing the shades to come back to the underworld with me, rather than fighting it out, but in the end they agreed, shedding their mortal forms and accepting passage back into the Underworld. A simple explanation that the judges might look better on them for it was usually enough for them.

“Yes.” Father frowned when he spoke the word. It seemed distasteful to him that we had done something before which now elluded us. “That has lead Thanatos and I to a second and a third conclusion.”

He nodded to Thanatos, who took up speaking. “Something I have noticed,” said Death. “Is that after time, shades who manage to take on mortal form become less and less shade, and more and more mortal. It’s why, should your father send out a warrant for your sister now,” I shivered at the mention of Hazel’s stolen life, “I would not be able to reap her if I tried. She has a new time line set in motion, a new fate.”

“A new time to die,” I said. I bit my lower lip as I thought about what he was telling me. “So as they spend more time as mortals, they become more mortal, and therefore not only more difficult to track down, but unable to be reaped?” That would mean that they were no longer under the command of the Underworld. Father, Thanatos and, to a lesser extent, I would not be able to control them.

“Yes,” said Thanatos, nodding, “but that is not the only thing your father and I have noticed.”

“Even if a shade had escaped at the beginning of Thanatos’ capture, we should still be able to sense it, thought it would expend much energy and it would take the both of us,” said Father. “Your sister, we believe was an accelerated case, for she had you to give her a physical form, and she is my child, which lends her to being more soul in any case.”

“And you’ve tried this procedure that you speak of?” I asked. “Tried to scry for them?”

Father sighed. “Many times, and with more than just the two of us. Hermes even loaned us his skills at one point.”

“We found nothing,” Thanatos admitted, his eyes down cast. “And yet, still there are those unaccounted for.”

“Which allowed us both to come to the unfortunate conclusion that they must have found a way to block their existence from the gods,” said Father.

I gasped, holding the air I took in in my lungs until I thought they would burst. The list of people who had escaped, who were probably out there...they weren’t a good sort. They were the sort of people who needed to come back to the Underworld. “But then...if the two of you couldn’t find them, how could I?” I asked. “They could be anywhere!”

“We thought of that as well,” said Thanatos. “We aren’t sending you on an impossible mission, Nico, just a difficult one. When we realized that we would not be able to find them based on their shadehood, we began scrying for god repellent spells, and the like. We found one. Only, given that they have barriers set up to repel gods, I cannot get in.”

“Nor can we risk his capture again, should they get any bright ideas,” said Dad. He took my hand and looked me in the eye. “But, Nico, you are a demi-god. You could shadow travel in, collapse their barrier, and then send up a signal for Thanatos to find you. Once you had done that, he would be able to return the shades to their form of soul and vapor, returning them to the underworld. This is the task I have for you, my daughter.”

I nodded to him. “When would I be needed? Immediately?”

“We will need a day to prepare the device that will send a signal to me,” said Thanatos. “After that, you will need to undertake it with the greatest speed, but greatest care.”

“That’s all very well and good,” said Persephone. I looked down to her end of the table, where I had almost forgotten that she sat. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs and cleared her throat. “But aren’t either of you going to comment on Nico’s appearance?”

Thanatos blinked at her. “Haven’t we already?” He grinned at me. “I distinctly remember commenting on your loveliness.”

“I distinctly remember your praises as well,” I replied. I turned to Dad as he glared at us both. “You don’t have a problem with the way I look, do you Father? I thought my choices were rather conservative for this sort of meeting.”

“Indeed,” said Dad, “I thought your manner of dress rather tasteful. Though I would care for an explanation on your tattoos.”

Before I could speak, Persephone leapt to her feet. “Enough! Will neither of you take note that Nico is now a woman? That he is now a she?”

“Persephone...” Dad trailed off and caught my gaze. I nodded to him. “Nico was never a he. She was always a she, only now she looks differently.”

“It is as I said on Olympus,” I added. “I’ve always been a woman, it’s just Hera transformed my body. Mostly.”

“Do you mean to say that not only do you insult women, but transgender folk as well?” Persephone inquired crossing her arms across her chest. Great, she didn’t have a problem with me being trans, just with me in general. “And what did you mean, ‘mostly?’”

Sighing, I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m not insulting anyone. I’m trans—” I took a deep breath and forged ahead with my speech, telling myself I wasn’t afraid of how she would react, “I’m queer too, if you really must know, stepmother, and I don’t use it as a pejorative, it’s just how I choose to describe myself. You misunderstood what that argument was about, and I only made your misunderstanding worse I admit.”

“She was, in fact, arguing for women’s rights, my dear,” Dad told her, looking across the table. “It sounds as if you are sour because your plot against my child went wrong.”

Persephone huffed, her arms squeezing so tight across her chest that she elevated her breasts at least an inch. “You still didn’t answer my other question. What did you mean by ‘mostly?’”

“Oh.” I felt my face flush as all of their eyes turned toward me. “Well, I suppose there’s no delicate way to say it, but I still have a penis.”

That got everyone’s goat—they all stared at me slack jawed, until Persephone managed to stutter out, “What?”

“I um...” I burned hotter, and I became intensely interested in the designs of the ebony table. “I still have a penis. Looks the same as before. Not sure why or how. But I am sort of interested in how this will all affect my hormones...”

“I’m not exactly sure myself,” Dad managed to mumble. “The best person to ask would be Hera. Or maybe Apollo. He has a better understanding of how the body works.”

“But how could it have happened in the first place?” asked Persephone. “Hera meant to turn you into a woman—”

“—a cis-woman—” I corrected.

Persephone glared at me, but amended herself. “Yes, a cis-woman. Why would she be left with with this other...anatomy.”

“Transfiguration, especially on the body, depends on will and visualization,” Dad told us. He rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “When imposing transfiguration on an inanimate object, or on oneself, it is enough that the transfigurer knows what the thing or sex they wish to be looks like. But, I suppose in the case of transforming another sentient person, the transformation would depend on both the will and visualization of the transfigurer and the transfigured. In this case, Nico’s image of what she would look like as a woman effected the transformation Hera planned for her.”

Dad shrugged. “Or so I would guess. I have never been one much for transforming myself or others.”

I nodded along, feeling good about my father’s analysis. I hope he was right. Though I had only been aware of it for a short time, I like the way my body looked—I felt comfortable in it, and didn’t particularly want to change it from the way it was now. Especially if it meant going through another hellish three days like the ones I had just experienced.

“May I be dismissed?” I asked. “I want to be sure I can talk to Hazel before I need to go on this quest.”

“Just a moment, Nicolina,” Said Father. “Do you care to explain those...markings of yours?” He gestured to my arm and my back.

“Oh...” There was no way to get out of this dishonestly. I could not say that a monster had forced me to at sword point, or anything. I shrugged. “I just wanted them. So I got them.”

Thanatos squinted at the tattoo on my arm. “What does that read?” he asked.

“facilis descensus Averno;

noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;

sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,

hoc opus, hic labor est,” I recited only to be met with a blank look. “Um, that’s from the Aeneid.” I pointed to the one on my opposite wrist. It formed a bracelet like thing that read kinstukuroi. “This means to mend with gold, or that something is more beautiful for having been broken.”

“And the crows?” asked Father. “They aren’t Thought and Memory, are they?”

“No,” I said. I had not honestly thought of Hugin and Munin when I first sketched out the idea for them, but the mention of Odin’s birds made me think of Chrysanta. I had to school my expression for a moment when I thought of my girlfriend. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my dad to know I was dating someone, just that I thought he wouldn’t approve. Not because I was dating another girl, but because Chrys happened to be the daughter of Freyja. Pantheons don’t really encouraging...mixing like that. So I had discovered when Chrys rather casually introduced me to her mother and Loki at the same time.

I cleared my throat. “They’re just, in some cultures, crows and other blackbirds can communicate with the dead.” I didn’t say that the two crows on the ground represented my mother and Bianca and how they lost their lives before they should have, that the crow flapping its wings just off the ground was me, or that there was a fourth crow more in the distance soaring and stretching her wings, that I had gotten after I met Hazel.

Father harrumphed. “Very well, you are dismissed. I will call you when we have a location to give you.”

I rose. Father embraced me, and we kissed each other in parting, once on each cheek. “Greet your sister for me.”

“I shall.” He released me, and I bowed once more before slipping into the shadows and traveling to the upper world.

I could no longer shadow travel directly into New Rome. Those same bored, very intelligent demi-gods I mentioned before had found a way to detect when someone crosses the barriers of the camp. Only it sends up an extra signal if someone crosses them in an odd way. So now I had to shadow travel within like fifteen feet of the camp jupiter boundary, cross it, make sure to walk at least a half mile, and then shadow travel to my intended destination. They didn’t make it easy for a girl to stay off the map

Don’t get me wrong, I stayed in touch with a few people. Hazel mostly, but Jason wrote me at least once a month, more often once a week. Percy had corresponded with me slowly, then picking up more frequently when he learned to write in Ancient Greek. I received the occasional missive from Reyna and Frank (now both no longer praetors), and even Annabeth wrote me occasionally, to ask how I was doing, would I be coming to camp this summer, etc. And though I would reply to each letter with diligence, I still didn’t like seeing them in person. It brought up too many old memories.

Plus, the Romans didn’t really trust me anymore, because I had known about both camps. Cie la vie.

I texted Hazel and asked when she could meet me.

—I’m free now, do you want to meet at the cafe?— she asked.

—No, come to the stables first. Meet you by Arion’s stall. Need to show you something— I answered in quick succession.

—???—replied Hazel, though I knew she would be to the stables soon.

When I was free to, I shadow traveled to just outside of the stables, and walked slowly to Arion’s stall. The horse yelled at me, and if I had had Percy to translate I would have guessed that the words were not polite. I backed away a little because I had known Arion to bite.

After a few minutes of standing, and playing Sudoku on my phone, Hazel burst into the stables. She had grown a little bit since I had last seen her, after all, she was fifteen now. Her golden brown curls were loc’d up to make them easier to manage, and she had dyed a few of them a brighter gold color (though I was half convinced it was real gold that wove it’s way through her hair, and only managed to look like Hazel had dyed it). She wore jeans, her purple camp tee-shirt and sneakers.

One look at me, and her hand flew to her sword. “Who are you?” she asked, golden eyes narrowing at the sight of me.

“I’m who said she would meet you here,” I replied. “It’s Nicolina, Hazel, I’ve just been on the receiving end of a transformation recently.”

“Okay,” she said, not taking her hand off of her weapon. My sister was smart. “If that’s true, tell me something only Nico would know.”

I bit my lip. “When I pulled you out of the Underworld, I was looking for our older sister, Bianca. And when I first brought you back, you were worried that I was always comparing you to her.”

“And were you?” Hazel asked.

“Yes.”

“And do you now?”

I shook my head. “You’re my own beautiful sister. I still miss Bianca, but I love you for who you are, Hazel.”

Hazel sheathed her sword and ran forward to pull me into a giant bear hug. I squeezed back as tightly as I could. “Oh my gods, you are so beautiful...” she murmured into my ear.

“So are you, soldata. I’m so glad I get to share this with you.”

We hugged it out for a few minutes more. Then my stomach rumbled and I realized that I was still suffering the after effects of the transformation, plus two shadow travel trips. Hazel only laughed whens he heard my stomach rumble, and we made our way to a favorite cafe of ours.

As we walked I told Hazel the story I would get used to telling. She laughed at the end, asking, “And Hera didn’t think to ask if you wanted to be made...” she paused. “Would cis be the right word? Because your body would match up with what your gender is ‘supposed’” she used air quotes here, “to look like?”

“I think that would be the right terminology,” I said. “And no, she didn’t. All and all I’m pretty pleased.”

“How did Dad take it?”

“He thought I looked nice, asked about my tattoos though. He sends his love, by the way.”

“He didn’t say that!”  
“Well, no, he said to ‘greet’ you, but with Dad it means the same.”

Hazel grumbled and bumped my shoulder with hers. I bumped her back.

We ate—I ate more than Hazel because I was still starving. After we had sat back, stomachs bursting, for a while we paid the check and got up to leave. I only walked with her to the exit of New Rome, though. After all, we might have met Frank or Reyna near the Barracks.

“I hate keeping secrets from them, Neeks,” she said when I indicated we should part ways. “They’re your friends too Nico. And don’t give me anything like they don’t love you or whatever. They think of themselves as your friend, they want to be your friend, and they’re not toxic people.”

I sighed. “Haze, I’m not ready to be out to everyone and their mother. Especially the people who knew me before I knew I was trans. Or after, when I was still passing for that matter. It’s just...”

What could I say? That I didn’t know how they would react? That I didn’t know if they would accept me for who I was, with an already kind of big list of things to accept me for? That I felt like if I came out as trans I would have to come out as queer too? That secretly, I feared the rejection of the demigods who I was sure had already been rejecting me for years? Hazel had heard it all before.

She smiled sadly at me. Wrapping her arms around me, my little sister whispered, “It’s okay, it’s just a suggestion. I’m not gonna force a choice on you.”

“Thanks, sis.” I pulled back from our hug and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to have a slumber party with me in New York?”

Hazel laughed, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Ha ha ha...the Legion may not be as serious as it once was, but I still have to wait for a furlough day if I want to take a trip like that. This ain’t Long Island, cheri.”

I rolled my eyes and hugged her one last time. We didn’t say good bye in words, only just raised our hands to one another in parting as I slipped into the shadows.

 

The next day and a half were filled with day to day things. I emailed to Chrys and let her know I was going on a quest, and that I had something to show her when I got back. I did some research on how to legally get your gender changed in the state of New York, only to check my license and ID in my magic wallet and find that they had already changed. I wondered if the Mist would cover up my “birth certificate,” (a fake, given that my original one was lost to me when my mother died in the forties), and my former body to my teachers and school admins (who had only met me once or twice anyway).

I decided not to worry about it for now. While I was still testing out my soprano range and singing scales all over the place, I mostly focused on getting ahead in my school work. I did online high school, which suited me just fine, since Dad would have me run errands, and occasionally I just felt like getting out of the city. Plus, they offered a wide variety of classes beyond just the staples of math, English and history, though I liked those things just fine anyway. And again, I know what you’re thinking: “But Nico, what about your dyslexia?”

Well, I think dyslexia is really a misnomer for what affects the Roman and the Greek demigods. If you’re a Greek, you’re hard wired to read Ancient Greek, and Latin is the same for the Romans, which is why we have trouble with English, right? Well, see that’s not exactly dyslexia. Most demigods I know can work numbers just fine (even though we use an Arabic number system, go figure), and the fact that we can systematically read and write any phonology sort of lends itself to the fact that we probably aren’t really dyslexic.

After all, using myself as an example, I read and write Italian just fine. Furthermore, English may be a Germanic language, but it has plenty of Latin influences. So why the hell can’t us demigods keep English straight?

I figured there’s some sort of magical block on our brains, due to the extreme downloading of language, and it’s just a matter of getting it unlocked. I told Percy and Jason this once, and Percy talked to the Hecate cabin and Jason to the Trivia legionnaires, and boom! We’re all able to read English just fine, though at about the level of a kindergartener. Still, after a couple of rounds of Rosetta Stone, a lot of what we had been learning in school finally got through our mental block, and now pretty much everyone at Camps Half-Blood and Jupiter can read and write and have an easier time in school.

When I got all caught up on school, and sent an email to my teachers saying that I might be a little unreachable do to a family emergency, I updated my journal about the big change and went shopping for some new clothes. (Hey, I might have had dresses and like, one pair of badly fitted jeans, but I was gonna need some proper underwear and practical clothing for this quest, plus a new pair of boots as my feet had shrunk.)

My days of rest were interrupted by a single text.

—Father: We have the location. Meet with us immediately.—

 

 


	2. Trapped/Terminated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sat in the cell for many hours, thinking on his words. Was it to be my life or my dignity? I had never had to make such a choice before. Usually when I was being held, much to my shame it had been a few times, they were going to kill me anyway, or I was being used as bait, usually for Percy Jackson. But now it seemed I did have a choice: my pride (my sense of self, my honesty, my everything) or death.
> 
> “What would Percy do?” I muttered to myself.
> 
> Percy would get out and complete the mission or die trying. I had tried to flatter my way out the situation by being friendly, trying to get Alcimenes to trust me, trying to make him choose to go back to the Underworld, and that had gone about as well as any time I tried to make friends. Well, now I was going to have to do things the hard way, and I was just going to have to accept it.
> 
> First thing was first: I had to find a way out of the cuffs that chained to the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS A TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER.
> 
> Nico experiences an attempted sexual assault. I have marked this passage's beginning and end with three, bold asteriks ***. Nico is also held captive in this chapter and receives unwanted advances from her captor. 
> 
> Please read carefully.

I woke up in a cell. I hate waking up in cells.

I shadow traveled to the property my father and Thanatos had found. Almost immediately, foot soldiers were upon me—people who were almost human, but who I could still tell were shades. There were too many of them, and they were too human for me to control. I fought as hard as I could, but I found my body giving out sooner—not a product of my new body I was told later, just a result of still being weakened from the transformation. Someone knocked me out.

Thus, I woke up in a cell. My hands were chained above my head. I briefly tried shadow traveling, but it only resulted in me feeling very drained and a little like I had to poop.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that were I you...” came a soft whispery voice.

When he stepped into the light I knew him to be a transformed shade immediately. He was not fully formed, though he did not have long left to go for sure. He looked about nine or ten, had rich olive skin, dark, tousled hair, and bright brown eyes. Sharp features accentuated his face and made him cute. “Y’see, my brother and I figured out how to make you unable to shadow travel.”

“Then why lock me up?” I asked. “I’m harmless now, aren’t I?”

As I spoke to him, I exercised my ability to control ghosts and, to a lesser extent, shades. The invisible muscle in my mind flexed and flexed, but the little boy did not so much as twitch. He kept his eyes fixed on me.

“Mmm...” He looked down, shaking his head. “Y’know, we were expecting a son of Hades. That’s what the others were saying. Son of Hades, Daughter of Pluto. But you’re not Roman, you’re a Greek, like me ‘n’ my brothers. Some things you can just tell. But, uh, you’re not that harmless, even if you’re pretty...”

“You think I’m pretty?” Now, this may sound like a total cliche, but really I had just never been called pretty before. It honestly came as a shock that someone would describe me as such. Plus I was still a little lethargic from getting knocked out cold. The bump on my head probably didn’t help anything.

The boy nodded up and down. I noticed for the first time that his eyes drooped, and he shuffled his feet like he was tired. “Yup, you’re very pretty. But my brothers say that makes you more dangerous. My mother was very, very pretty, and she was very, very dangerous. Dangerous women are always pretty.”

“Who was your mother?” I asked.

He gripped the bars, his knuckles turning white, and leaned in so that his face slipped between them. “She escaped the underworld around the same time we did, my brothers and me. But she didn’t think to take us with her. She always thinks about herself. She’s selfish like that. When we poisoned our father’s girlfriend, that was her idea, she let us be killed for it, and then she killed our brothers Alcimenes and Tisander. But me and Mermeros...” the boy shivered at the thought. “The crowds got us. Trampled us. Bludgeoned us. Have you ever been bludgeoned? It’s no good.”

Maybe it was a side effect of being a shade, but this kid was creeping me out. And I’ve talked with a lot of dead people. All the talk of poison and bludgeoning made me wonder just how sane he was. I summoned up all of the knowledge I had of children, and thought about how to proceed. At last, still creeped out, but a little desperate for information I could use, I said,  “I bet not.” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Say, what’s your name? You told me all of your brothers’ names, but not yours.”

He perked up a little, his back straightening and his head lifting. “My name is Pheres. What’s yours?”

“My name is Nico,” I said. His name confirmed it—they were the children of who I thought they were. “Um, Pheres, are you and your brothers going to kill me? Because if you’re trying not to get noticed by my dad, that will definitely make him notice you.”

Pheres shook his head emphatically. “No, no killing. We just need to keep you here until we’re mortal again. Then, I guess we’ll let you go, because Death won’t be able to take us.”

“Mmhmm, and how long will that take?”

Pheres opened his mouth, but someone called out, “Don’t answer that!”

A figure stepped into the doorway. He was taller than Pheres, much more physically fit, his dark hair was cut shorter in a more military style, but they had many of the same sharp features and the same bright, brown eyes. If Pheres was a cute boy, this person was a very handsome man, though he was probably no older than twenty.

Pheres glowered, “Alcimenes, it was just a question.”

“She’s our prisoner, Pheres, not a guest. We don’t have to answer her questions. Now, is she secure?”

Pheres’ head drooped. “Yes, brother,” he murmured.

Alcimenes ruffled his younger brother’s hair and kissed his forehead, letting the little boy know he was alright. “Then go and help Mermeros. I’m sure he’ll have something for you to do by now.”

Pheres sighed, but he obediently trotted from the room. Alcimenes watched him go before turning to glare at me. “Don’t speak to my brothers, witch, any of them.”

“From where I sit, he was talking to me, not the other way around,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. Part of me was also a little worried. I could talk to kids, and usually I had a pretty easy time talking to shades. But if I couldn’t talk to any of them, then how could I convince them to go back to the Underworld?  “And what if one of them does talk to me? I am, as you said, your prisoner, they could do something...untoward...”

Alcimenes snarled at me. He yanked open the cell door, and he was on me in a second. “You listen here, daughter of Hades. We are not our father! And I don’t care what your father says, we did not deserve to die. We...we did not deserve for our mother to kill us, to arrange our death, for our father to leave us for some...some...strumpet!”  
“No one has said that you deserved those things, Alcimenes,” I told him slowly. Clearly the guy was touchy, and his red face made him almost seem like he was about to explode. “I certainly don’t think so.” I didn’t really have an opinion on the subject, but I didn’t want to light a match for his fuse. “As for my father...” I chewed my lip—for all I knew Dad might have thought they did deserve whatever had happened to them. Maybe I should have stayed quiet about Dad, but now Alcimenes looked at me with expectation. “Well, he’s lived a very long time and seen many people come and go. He doesn’t have the same perspective that you and I do. But, Alcimenes, what it comes down to is that you are still dead.”

“No, I’m not!” Alcimenes stood and began pacing the cell. He waved his arms up and down his solid form. Fuse lit. Damnit. “I have flesh that contains my soul, do I not? I breathe, my heart beats, I need to eat, need to piss! I am alive! I live!” He glared at me. “And in three weeks you’ll have to kill me to say otherwise, daughter of Hades.”

My throat felt swollen at the thought. I had killed monsters, sure; because they attacked me often enough as the daughter of Hades, the thought barely even phased me now. And I had fought in the Battle of Manhattan against fellow half bloods, trying to leave them mostly alive, never quite sure how often I succeeded. But I had never attempted to take the life of another person, not like this, not with premeditated planning.

“I don’t want to kill you,” I said at last.

“Good, because then I won’t have to kill you,” said Alcimenes. He leaned forward, puncturing my personal bubble. “Don’t talk to my brother, and don’t you think of escaping.” He ran his eyes over me one last time, settling on my hands chained above my head. “If you’re good, then I will give you better restraints.”

“How kind,” I retorted.

He bristled. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Master, I understand.”

I had only meant to be sarcastic, but a smile grew on Alcimenes’ face. “You see, daughter of Hades? You’re already learning your place.”

With that he turned and left, locking the cell behind him.

I let my head fall back on the stone wall. Not like his father, my ass. Fucking fantastic.

 

A few days passed. The only person I had for any company was Alcimenes. While I could relieve my own boredom, mostly by singing arias or drawing up escape plans, that I only saw Alcimenes worried me. He would bring me my meals, and at the same time unchain me so I could relieve myself. He seemed to be doing his best to keep everyone away from me, not just his brothers. Perhaps they had heard of my reputation for convincing shades to go back to the Underworld, and feared what I might be able to do, given a few hours or a few days.

But Alcimenes was a hard egg to crack, and if I was going to convince someone to drop the boundaries on the compound, I wouldn’t have picked him.

The first time that happened had been somewhat scary for me, as he had wanted to handcuff my hands behind my back, and let me squat over the prison grade toilet in the corner (what this was doing here, I didn’t know, but I was just grateful that it wasn’t a bucket). “Um, that’s not going to work.”

He rolled his eyes. “I won’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah, no, it’s just if my hands are behind my back I won’t be able to aim. Please, I won’t run away, just...let me have my hands for two seconds.”

Perhaps some of my unease calmed him, as he put the handcuffs aside. “Fine, go to.”

I swallowed hard, still wondering what he would do when he saw my penis. When I was first realizing that I was trans, I started to read people’s stories. There was always tragedy mixed in—women whose boyfriends stabbed them or bludgeoned them after finding out that they were trans. Alcimenes hated me for all that I stood for—he wouldn’t care if he suddenly had an excuse to hurt me.

I unbuttoned my pants and turned to see him watching. “Could you look away? You said you would.”

“Yes, if you had the cuffs on. You could attack me much more easily like this.”

I grumbled, and debated if it was really worth it. But my bladder was pressing up against my stomach, and out against my lower abdomen—I really needed to pee. I pushed my underwear down, then pulled out my penis. I watched the toilet intensely as I did my business refusing to look anywhere in Alcimenes’ direction. When I was finished, I tucked myself back in and did up my pants. I walked back to the bench where I had been seated before, but I could not make myself look at the man in front of me.

“Have we been calling you wrong?” he asked.

“What?” I looked up at him quickly, more in shock than anything else.

He was frowning, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you really a son of Hades? Have I misnamed you?”

“No, I’m...I’m a daughter of Hades,” I told him. My eyes had gone down again. I felt my cheeks heat up—I hadn’t even been this ashamed around Persephone. What was wrong with me?

“Oh, I see.” He held out a tray of food for me, and that was all he said on the matter.

My heart stopped racing, and I ate the salad he had brought me.

After two days, he did indeed give me longer chains, provided that my feet were chained too. After a day of that, he got tired of unchaining my feet. At four days was when he started talking to me and hanging around my cell longer when he would bring me meals. It caught me by surprise, as mostly up until this point he had given me orders about what to do or what not to do, occasionally asking me if I had a preference for what I wanted to eat, so he could bring me something that was exactly not that. I didn’t mind his breaking radio silence. It meant I had a better chance at escape.

“Have you been to the Grand Canyon?” he asked.

“Once,” I said as I ate a plate of cool spaghetti bolognese. “It was a sight to behold, but got boring after a few minutes.”

“Where else have you been?”

I rattled off a list of places. Alcimenes wanted to hear about them all. “I can’t wait to see it all with my own eyes,” he told me.

Mostly, Alcimenes asked about things in the world which seemed so new to him. Places he had never heard of when he was alive, inventions of the last century. It made me feel awful, wanting to return him to the dead when he so longed to live, but I figured that was the point.

The subject of his shadehood came up more than once.

“If you would go back willingly, I could intercede for you,” I told him. I tried to be as soothing as possible when I spoke, which had worked for many other shades. “I’m sure my father would love to know how you all managed to stay hidden. There’s information you could give them, if you would just agree to do so.”

“And where would we go?” he asked. “Asphodel again? An eternity of continual nothingness. Could you not let me live another twenty, thirty years? What is that to your immortal father?”

We circled the issue always seeing what we could give and take. Alcimenes would always leave in a huff, but never forgetting to chain me, or lock the cell and prison room doors.

At the end of the week he kissed me.

When had been talking on the floor off my cell—I sat up against the wall, while Alcimenes reclined, resting on his elbow. To reward me for being a good prisoner, Alcimenes had brought along a skein of wine. I suspected this was also for some other purpose, like getting information out of me or something like it, so I had only rolled my eyes when he offered and declined. But Alcimenes had more than a few drinks, and was red faced halfway into our meal.

In any case, we were talking more of the world, when he said, “I would much like it if you would show me some of the places you have been.”

“I shan’t be able to,” I said, watching him take another sip of wine. Absently, I wondered what sort of duties Alcimenes had at this compound of shades, and why he was so free to leave off them and get drunk in the middle of the day with a prisoner. “Because, even if I, or someone else doesn’t succeed in downing your barriers, I couldn’t go with you.”

“Why not? I’ll be mortal then.”

“My father would never let me go off with a man who thwarted him,” I said. “Unless it was to drag you back.”

He ducked his head. “So there is no chance for us?”

I rolled my eyes a little, wondering what was going through my captor’s head. After all, at the start of the week we had been enemies and now he wanted to see the world with me. “No chance for us to see the world. Probably not together. But if you succeed—”

And that was when he kissed me. He held my face in his hands, straddling my lap as he pressed our lips together. I sat there in shock for a moment, as he continued to kiss me, before pushing him away. “What are you doing?!”

He blinked—his face was flushed pink, and his pupils had blown wide. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“A week ago, you wanted nothing to do with me,” I reminded him. My eyes darted toward the open cell door and I wondered if I could make it.

“A week ago, I didn’t know you as I do now. I know you only want the best for my brothers and me, and that you are loyal to your father, which is admirable.” He took my hands in his squeezing them. “I care for you a great deal Nico.”

“You still don’t know me,” I said. I pushed him again, this time getting to my feet to put some distance between us.

“I want to know you,” he said, trying to reach out for me again.

“Alcimenes, I’m sixteen, sixteen,” I said. “You...I...I’ve known you a week, and I’m your prisoner, and I’m only sixteen-years-old, do you understand?”

“No I don’t!” he exclaimed. He threw up his hands. Turning toward the door, he swung back around in a circle of frustration. “When I was alive, a girl like you would already be promised to someone, if not married.”

“Well, it’s been a few millennia since then,” I said, throwing up my own hands. “I’m not ready to be married, or promised, or anything like that. And don’t you see—I’m your prisoner, you have power over me. I couldn’t be a relationship with you right now if I wanted to.”

His face grew a darker shade of red. “I know you’re my prisoner, and I will let you go in a fortnight, but that’s no reason why we can’t be together now...” He rushed me, backing me into a wall. “We could enjoy our time together, Nico, I could teach you how to enjoy it...”

“No.”

“What?” he crouched a little, so his face could be even with mine, and took my face in his hands again. “What did you say?”

“I told you ‘no,’” I said to him more clearly. I steeled my eyes and made my face as blank as possible. “I like talking with you, Alcimenes, but I don’t want to do anything else with you.”

His shoulders drooped mirroring his frowning mouth. “But why?” he asked.

Because of everything I have already said, I thought to myself. I am sixteen, trapped and his prisoner to boot. But I had already said all of that, and he did not seem to understand. I doubt even if I really tried to explain why I couldn’t consent to any of this that he would still get it or even care. But above all, that was not the reason. “I said no,” I told him. “That should be enough. I’m...” I don’t know why I said it, but I blurted out, “It’s just the way I feel. I’m sorry, Alcimenes.”

He began to turn red again. Stalking away from me, Alcimenes let his hands fall to his sides and curl into fists. I turned myself sideways, readying for a fight. We stayed like that for a few minutes until he turned back to me “I think you will be sorry, Nico,” he said. “I think you will be very sorry. Sit.” He motioned to my steel bench.

I felt frozen with fear, the threat washing over me like an icy blast of ocean water.

Alcimenes took two large steps toward me across the cell room and grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me to the metal bench. He pushed me down into my usual spot and chained my wrists to the wall, as he had done this past week. He was not gentle, and when he walked to the cell door, his boots thundered on the concrete. He turned to take one last look at me. “You will be very sorry, daughter of Hades.”

He slammed the cell door shut behind him.

 

Dinner time rolled around, and instead of Alcimenes, I was visited by the next eldest brother, Tisander, a grumpy fifteen-year-old. He made no attempt to speak to me, only glared at me the entire time and kept his hand on his sword. The food I ate was cold, burnt beef and egg noodles with no sauce. I’m fairly certain the almost inedible meal was done on purpose. The water he gave me tasted unfiltered, but I drank it anyway. I still had no idea how long I would be here, and before I messed up with Alcimenes, I had planned on snagging his keys at one point. That plan was out the window.

Still, Tisander made no advancement on me. Once I had relieved myself, he chained me and left. Mermeros, a cheerful twelve-year-old, brought me breakfast the next morning. He did talk, but only to himself, and occasionally shaking his head at me, muttering things like, “You fool, she’s just like mother, beautiful and deadly.” Or, “who falls in love in a week?”

“Is Alcimenes still very angry with me?” I asked.

Mermeros blinked and came out of his stupor. He must have been a very powerful witch, for the two elder brothers had been nothing but on guard with me. “Hmm...yes,” he said. “Very angry. When we were...before, and even since we left the underworld I don’t think there’s been a woman who refused him.” He sighed. “You were either very brave or very foolish to do so.”

“Let’s go with brave,” I said. “Maybe that will get me through this.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Cheer up though. If we let you go, you have less than two weeks of captivity left.”

“If?” I asked.

Mermeros frowned and flushed slightly when he realized he had given something away. “I’m not supposed to say. You will be fine, daughter of Hades. Just keep your head low.” He began to chain me up, muttering something that I could not understand. As he collected my tray and headed for the door, he turned back one last time. “And a word of advice. If Alcimenes comes to you again, don’t refuse him.”

I sat in the cell for many hours, thinking on his words. Was it to be my life or my dignity? I had never had to make such a choice before. Usually when I was being held, much to my shame it had been a few times, they were going to kill me anyway, or I was being used as bait, usually for Percy Jackson. But now it seemed I did have a choice: my pride (my sense of self, my honesty, my everything) or death.

“What would Percy do?” I muttered to myself.

Percy would get out and complete the mission or die trying. I had tried to flatter my way out the situation by being friendly, trying to get Alcimenes to trust me, trying to make him choose to go back to the Underworld, and that had gone about as well as any time I tried to make friends. Well, now I was going to have to do things the hard way, and I was just going to have to accept it.

First thing was first: I had to find a way out of the cuffs that chained to the wall.

When I had first been chained, I thought about the normal ways of getting free: seeing if I could slip my hands out of the cuffs, or pulling the chains off of the wall. I had not been strong enough for the latter, and the cuffs were too tight for the former (though loose enough that they chaffed, annoyingly). So now I had to find another way.

I thought about trying to shadow travel again, but Pheres had known what I was doing before, he said that he and the others had put barriers up that prevented it. But was that just around my cell? Around the whole compound? Just in the jail room? I decided that the smallest barrier he could have made would have been around the cell, and therefore, I could still try something really desperate.

The thing about shadow travel is it requires a lot of willpower. You have to know what you want to do and where you want to go. If you don’t have good visualization or will, you do things like try to shadow travel to New York and end up in China. I had never before tried what I did next, but I was a little desperate at the time.

I turned to look at my left hand, holding it up as far as the chain would let me, so that it fell into the shadow of the afternoon sun. I focused on the manacle, pictured my hand falling through the shadows of one end and out the shadows of the other. This was dangerous, as you might imagine. I had no idea if my hand would fall off of my wrist, or if the cuff would stop halfway through my body. I hoped not.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed through. The manacle fell the ground with a clang. I held my wrist up and flexed my hand. I didn’t feel like anything was wrong. Eagerly, I turned to my other hand and held it up. I focused hard on my wrist, pictured it sliding through the shadows WIth some grunting and effort I pushed through, and the second manacle fell to the ground with a clang.

Now for the cell door.

They had taken the Black Sword and my jacket when they knocked me out, but thankfully these men were even more clueless than modern times and had not thought to check my bra for anything. Reaching inside my bra, I pulled out a set of lockpicks. The cell doors weren’t anything fancy, thankfully, and I began to work through picking the lock. It was a little more difficult from the wrong side, but after a few minutes, I managed okay.

Unfortunately, that was when Alcimenes walked in holding a knocked out Dakota Mills, the son of Bacchus over his shoulder.

We both froze.

“What’s going on?” Tisander asked.

Alcimenes moved, and I saw behind him, Tisander had Frank in chains.

“This bitch was trying to escape,” Alcimenes snarled. He turned back to me. “Move and we kill your companions.”

Frank got a good look at me and said, “But we don’t know her.”

Tisander knocked him on the head with an open palm, as Alcimenes opened a second cell in the room to drop Dakota in. “Quiet,” Alcimenes ordered. “Don’t think any of you can fool us. Tisander, Joshua, bring the others.”

Tisander pushed Frank forward, and then another shade, I presume Joshua, pushed in Reyna. Alcimenes stepped out of their way, and grabbed me by the throat, pushing me into the cell.

“Who did you tell about our location?”  
I tried to speak, but all that came out was a garble. Alcimenes eased up so that I could speak. “I didn’t tell anyone, my father told me where to look for you.”

“I told you, Lord Pluto gave us this quest!” Frank yelled. “Leave the girl alone!”

*******

Tisander hit him again and yelled, “Quiet!” He and Joshua pushed them in the cell, and Tisander sneered, “Or you’ll get as good as she’s going to, pretty boy.”

Frank reeled a little, startled, but I was soon broken from my observation by a slap to my face. I stumbled back, but turned to face Alcimenes in a fighting stance. “How dare you do this to me, Nico, trying to escape. I am less than a fortnight away from being mortal again, and I will not let you ruin this for me.”

He lunged; I dodged. He struck; I blocked. We parried back and forth for a minute or two, before Alcimenes knocked me to the floor. He pinned my hands above my head. But I struggled—I kicked and kicked and worked my hands free a few times. Alcimenes pinned me again and again, at last back handing me twice, and then a third time when I screamed. “Stupid slut!” he yelled. “I’m going to teach you your place.”

He held me with one hand, and with the other he reached for my jeans.

Joshua screamed in the background. I couldn’t see it happening, but Dakota told me later that they hadn’t gotten a knife off of him. When he woke up, he passed it to Reyna and she stabbed the shade. They were mortal enough that they could bleed and feel pain, and so he had screamed out in surprise.

Alcimenes looked to see what was going on and while he was distracted, I pulled my body upwards and wrapped my legs around his neck. Instinctively, I had known that my hands would not be enough to go around far enough, nor would I be strong enough to hold on. But I’ve always had strong legs, and after my transformation there was more fat to my thighs and just as much muscle as before.

He quickly realized how I had trapped him, and Alcimenes began to hit me again and again. I ignored the pain and kept going.

Tisander tried to help him, but Frank had a similar idea. He grabbed Tisander through the bars of the cell, and wrapped his strong, thick arms around around the shade’s neck. Tisander could only flail, trying to get at his attacker.

Alcimenes’ face grew red, then purple. I counted the seconds as they passed. His hits became weaker and weaker, until at last his arms dropped to his side. One minute passed and I still had my hold on him, watching as his face went darker and darker.

“Nico! Nico! THAT’S ENOUGH!”

I snapped out of my trance and let go. Alcimenes slumped to the ground. Reyna stood at the door of my cell looking down at me. She walked over and pulled me to my feet, before wrapping me in a hug. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“In no way I won’t heal I guess,” I said. Then it hit me. I pushed away, holding Reyna at arm’s length. “You know who I am?”

*******

Reyna rolled her eyes at me. “I suspected, but this only confirms. He called you Nico, your face is the same, and I was with you when you got that tattoo, jerk.” She tapped my kintsukuroi tattoo, which I had gotten after the War of the Earth. “This isn’t a curse is it? This is what you really want to look like, isn’t it?

Mutely, I nodded, almost breaking eye contact with Reyna to admire the ground. But something about it being Reyna made me strong enough to hold my gaze.

“You could have told me, Nico,” she said softly, mouth marred by a little frown.

“It felt like I couldn’t tell anyone,” I said. “And now everyone’s acting all cool about it—even the gods don’t care.”

“Does...” I looked up to see Frank standing over Tisander, dragging him into the cell. “Does Hazel know?”

“Of course I told my sister, Frank,” I snapped. “I told my father too, if you were wondering.”

Dakota made a noise as he chained up Joshua the shade. Reyna nudged me, and we dragged Alcimenes to do the same. “Now, I’m not very educated dude, at least not about stuff like these, and don’t get me wrong, you make a total babe, but uh...what are the terms here?”

I rolled my eyes. “Right now, really? We can’t even wait until after we’ve summoned Thanatos?” I slapped a manacle around Alcimenes wrist. In a surge of guilt, I pressed my fingers to his neck. He had a pulse, which was good, and it was a little slow, which was worrisome, but not too slow.

“What is it?” Reyna asked me.

“I counted 56,” I told her. I looked at the other two shades and noticed Joshua had stopped bleeding. “We need to get out of here, I have no idea what their healing rate is like, or even of what their capable. Did you see where they put our weapons?”

“I did,” said Frank. He shuffled Dakota out of the cell and closed it behind them. Reyna and I joined them in the little hallway and we all moved toward the door.

Frank led the charge with Reyna close behind him. Frank stumbled a little at first, mostly because he kept looking behind to Reyna, as if he expected her to be ahead of him. But then he ran as fast as he could, Reyna keeping pace and Dakota and I pulling up the rear. The corridors were laid out simply and made of plain brick. Some were old, but some were very new, which made me wonder how much of this they had salvaged.

A good bit of fortune struck us, and we came to the armory without meeting any shades. Bad fortune befell when we peaked inside and saw that there were two shades waiting. Using military commands, Reyna motioned that she and Frank would go in and knock the two shades out, while Dakota and I waited.

We didn’t have to wait long. Frank and Reyna quietly disposed the two shades, and had them tied up in a corner in less than a minute. Dakota and I entered, closing the door behind us.

I rushed to where I sensed the Black Sword lay, and thankfully my coat was with it. Rooting through my left pocket, I found the small lantern and flint that Thanatos had given me as a sigil to summon him.

“Is that what we use to bring Death here?” Reyna asked as she strapped on some armor and a sword. She grabbed her favorite spear, which lay propped up near by.

“Yes,” I said. As I buckled on my sword belt and pulled on my jacket. “But first we have to find their barrier cornerstone and knock it out of place.”

“Wait a minute, the cornerstone for the building? That’s not possible, we would have to dig it out and we don’t have the tools or time,” said Frank. He and Dakota both were donning armor, and Reyna forced a leather chest and back plate into my hands. I slipped off my jacket again, and let her pull it over my hand.

“No, for the barrier,” I grunted around putting on the armor. “To set a barrier, says Father, there must be something keeping it there. You have to use something to keep the barrier in place, and that something is called the cornerstone. Even though it might not be a rock it will be on the edge of the property somewhere, because it had to encompass the whole place.” Pulling on my jacket, after Reyna had tightened the straps around my shoulders, I drew out the Black Sword. “Now, you’re right, we haven’t got much time, and someone will probably discover the bodies in the jail soon. Let’s just hope it’s not Pheres or Mermeros, they’re the ones with the real power.”

“Nico, who are these guys?” Reyna asked, as Dakota peaked out into the hall to see if it was clear.

“The sons of Jason and Medea,” I said, twisting my hand around my sword’s handle. “And like you saw back in that cell, they’re vengeful as hell. Are we clear?”

“As crystal,” said Dakota, giving a thumbs up.

We ran.

A few shades saw us, but we knocked all of them out before they could raise an alarm. We took the first exit we saw, and ran some more. “What are we looking for, Nico?” Frank asked.

“We need to find the barrier and then follow it around,” I said. It would take time. The compound looked like it might be five-hundred feet in diameter, and the barrier could be a hundred feet or more from the edge of the building. But there would be no simpler way to do it—we could not count on getting lucky, so we would have to be good tacticians.

“Alright then,” said Reyna, taking the lead. “Weapons stay out. Dakota, you’re our fastest runner, so if we get bogged down, you keep running. Nico, what does any one of us have to do to stop this barrier.”

“Push the stone out of place, though it won’t be easy,” I said as we got further away from the compound. We must have been getting close. I heard a humming in the air. “There are all kinds of magic wrapped around this place. If one of you can do it while I can’t, get the lantern and light the fuse inside, that will summon Thanatos.”

We ran some more.

It took two or three minutes. My throat had begun to burn and the California sun beat down on my jacket and armor making me sweat profusely. But the buzzing grew louder in my ears, letting me know that I was getting closer to the barrier. Then I felt it all at once. “HALT!” I called.

The three Romans stopped at once, Dakota almost stumbling forward right into it. I reached out and jerked him back by his armor. “Do you feel it?” I asked. It was a strange sort of energy, something I had never felt before.

“No,” said Reyna. “Should we?”

It felt like the barrier wanted me out—or maybe it was meant to keep death out as well as gods and that’s why it affected me so strongly. “No,” I said. “Let’s keep going. We need to find the corner stone.”

We were all panting—I would have bet that their armor weighed them down as much as mine did. But they were Romans, and we were all demi-gods fighting to stay alive. We ran on.

I led this time, as I was the only one who could sense the curve of the barrier. Reyna ran behind me, and Frank brought up the rear. The barrier curved around in a circle, so I knew it would not take us long before I would find the point where the barrier both began and ended. And soon enough we did. Only Fortuna did not favor us this time, as Mermeros and Pheres were standing over their their cornerstone with fire in their eyes.

“You’ve done a very foolish thing, Nico,” said Mermeros. “Family means everything to us, you know that. Why did you hurt them, Nico? Why?”

“His temper got the better of him,” I said. My hand gripped the hilt of the Black Sword, and I drew it out just enough that it would draw quickly in an emergency. For now Mermeros and Pheres stood calm—there was no need to spook them. “He...he tried to hurt me, Mermeros, he held me down, and he tried to hurt me.”

“Our brother would never do that!” Pheres shouted. “He loves you!”

“He barely knows me, Pheres,” I said, holding my hands out to the little boy. “I wanted to be his friend, I still do. But friends don’t hurt each other. You don’t hurt people you love. Please, I just want to help the two of you as well.”

“Then let us be mortal!” Mermeros shouted. “Just leave us alone if you want to help us so bad.” He was shaking as he guarded his corner stone, a gladios drawn out in front of him.

“Mermeros, if we let everyone who escaped be mortal again, there’s no telling what would happen.” I spoke slowly inching closer to him. “You could interrupt the flow of life...for all either I or my father knows, your bodies could begin to decompose or you could become ill more easily. And when you die again—and you will die, boys, it may take another hundred years, but you will die again—and when you do, the judges of the Underworld will not be kind to you. They may send you to Tartarus, do you understand? You’ll be made to suffer for escaping the first time around.”

Pheres buried his face into his brother’s shoulder, and I could see tears forming in Mermeros’ eyes. “Please, Nico,” he begged. “Please just leave us alone. We don’t wanna die again, it hurt so much. You’ve no idea how much it hurt. We begged for help, begged them to stop,” he stomped on the ground, making it shake, “but no one helped” he stomped again and I almost lost my footing, “no one stopped. Please, Nico, please don’t hurt us.”

“I’m not going to hurt you dear, I promise,” I said. To prove my word, I unbuckled my belt and let the Black Sword fall to the ground. Frank reached out to grab it, but I batted him away.

I inched ever closer until I could take Mermeros’ hand in mine. I tossed his gladios away, and hugged the boys to my chest. They were small now, only nine and twelve, and they had already been out of the Underworld for almost two years. Two little boys left to the crowds of Corinth to answer for their parents’ crimes. I pulled back, and I looked at them both, wiping away their tears. “If you let me summon Thanatos, I promise I will do everything I can for the two of you. If I can help it I won’t let you go back to Asphodel and especially not to Tartarus.”

“Will you really?” Pheres asked.

“Yes,” I told them.

“And...” Mermeros sniffed. “Will you try and help Tisander and Alcimenes as well? I know Alcimenes hurt you, but he didn’t mean it, I’m sure.”

I bit my tongue. I wanted to look back at Reyna, to see what she thought. I could feel her and the others grew tenser behind me with each passing moment. “The only thing I can say is that I will review their cases and see if there is a way I can redeem them. Maybe if they try to help my father by telling us how they kept the gods out—”

“Oh but they didn’t do that,” said Mermeros, “Me an’ Pheres did. Tisander and Alcimenes can’t do magic at all. We made the cornerstone and put up the barriers and everything. We’ll show your father how if he promises to spare our brothers.”

I bit my tongue again. It was almost the same as if Alcimenes and Tisander had done it. “Alright,” I agreed. “I don’t promise that they will go to Elysium, but I think they might be kept out of Tartarus and allowed to go back to Asphodel.”

The little boys wiped away their tears and smiled at me. Mermeros turned a little stony faced after a second and told me, “You have to promise on the River Styx that you’ll do everything you said you would.”

“I swear by the River Styx that I will try my best to advocate for Pheres, Mermeros, Tisander and Alcimenes, the sons of Jason and Medea, each according to their flaws and virtues, before the judges of the Underworld, and my own father, Hades, Lord of the Dead.” I held up my right hand, as if I were swearing for a judge and not a little boy. “Does that sound fair?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Mermeros. He ran his sleeve under his nose. “Okay, I’ll move the corner stone.”

Someone sighed. I looked back to see Dakota raising up his helmet and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I ain’t made for this shit anymore, Rey.”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t smoke so much weed...”

“Pheres! Mermeros!”

I almost groaned, but managed to keep a straight face in front of the boys, as I turned to see Tisander and Alcimenes charging toward us, backed by ten or more shades. “Mermeros,” I said as calmly as I could. “I need you to move the corner stone right now, before your brothers can reach us. Will you do that for me, please?”

“But we have to tell Alcimenes about the deal we made,” said Mermeros, waving to his older brothers. “Then he’ll stop, I know he will.”

While his faith in his brother was touching, I also had a feeling it was misplaced. I snatched up the Black Sword, buckling it back around my waist and making sure I could still draw it easily. Pheres tugged my pant leg, “Nico, you promised you weren’t going to hurt us!”

I knelt down on his level, and Frank, Reyna and Dakota moved to shield me. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetie, but Alcimenes is still angry with me, and he may try to hurt me cause he’s angry.”

“But why?” Pheres asked.

“Because sometimes when people are angry, they do things that don’t make sense,” I told him. “And I just want to make sure that Alcimenes can’t hurt me and my friends before we get a chance to talk to them. Okay?”

Pheres nodded. He slipped his hand in my non dominant hand so that I could still draw my sword if I needed to. Mermeros hung back a little, just over Pheres’ shoulder.

When the shades were almost upon us, I told them, “Close your eyes, boys, you don’t need to see what’s going to happen next.”

They both squeezed their eyes shut, turning to bury their faces into my side.

Though there had been ten or so shades with Alcimenes and Tisander, they fell upon us at different rates. One at first, which Reyna took out, followed by three, dispatched easily by the three Roman, and so on. The brothers hung back watching their soldiers be taken out. “We have more!” Tisander called as the last shade fell.

“Give us our brothers back, daughter of Hades!” Alcimenes asked. “And I’ll think about letting you live!”

“Stop it Al!” Mermeros shrieked from behind me. He surged forward to Dakota’s side so quickly that the son of Bacchus had to grab him just to get him to stop. Even from Dakota’s arms he screamed, “Just ‘cause you’re mad doesn’t mean you get to hurt Nico! You said you weren’t going to be like Father! You promised!”

Even at a distance I could see Alcimenes turn a motley of colors. “She’s going to hurt you, Mermeros!” he screamed. “And I can only protect you if you come here, right now!”

Then, from behind Alcimenes and Tisander surged a crowd of shades, perhaps the whole compound’s worth, holding swords and spears ready to fight. “Give my brothers up now, Hound of Hades, or I swear—”

His words were drowned out as Pheres screamed beside me. He started to claw at me, tears streaming down his face. I lifted him into my arms and pulled him close., “Nico, don’t let them get us!” he begged. “Please, not again, not again!” I drew Pheres into my arms and saw Memoros similarly affected, frozen in place at Dakota’s side.

“Draw back the crowd!” Reyna ordered. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to them?”

Alcimenes did not heed her, but instead turned to the mob of shades and began shouting orders and encouragements. Reyna turned to us instead, “We have got to move that cornerstone, or else we’re all going to be dead.”

Pheres began muttering, “Not again, not again,” on repeat into my ear, and hung limply in my arms. Dakota picked an equally limp Mermeros up and we moved them the few yards we had wandered back to the cornerstone. I reached out and took Mermeros’ hand, shaking him gently. “Mermeros, you have to move the corner stone. Sweetie, please you need to wake up.”

He looked at me between his bangs and shook his head. “Nico I can’t. They’re gonna get us.”

“If you move the cornerstone, sweetheart, I promise they won’t get us,” I told them. “Here,” I shuffled Pheres around in my arms so that my right hand was free. “I’ll help you, okay, I’ll help both of you, and we can do it together. You won’t be alone, I promise.”

Reyna and Frank both drew their swords, and it took everything I had not to look away from the little boy in front of me. Slowly, Mermeros nodded. He reached out a hand to his younger brother, drawing Pheres’ attention. “C’mon, Pheres, we’ve got to do it together. And then we’ll be okay.”

Pheres was still crying, snot running down his face, but he turned to look at his brother. After a moment, and not a moment too soon, he took Mermeros’ hand. They climbed down from our arms, and together they put their hands on the cornerstone. Pheres looked up at me, and so I added mine to the pile. I could hear Alcimenes screaming as together we three pushed the cornerstone free of the barrier.

Reyna, Frank and Dakota formed a tight semi-circle around us, as I fumbled to pull the lantern free of my pocket. It took three strikes of the flint, but I lit it. And just like that Thanatos popped onto the compound, and the crowd stood shocked into stillness.

Mere moments later,  Alcimenes rushed straight at the god of Death. Thanatos, however, merely reached out and tapped him on the forehead, making Alcimenes go limp. His body fell to the earth, crumbling until only a transparent spirit remained. He opened his mouth to scream, but the earth opened up swallowing the spirit down, along with several of the bodied shades.

The whole crowd to burst back into action. Shades began running away, but Tisander managed to rally many of the ones which were left to continue fighting. Thanatos, god though he was, could only touch so many of them at once, and there were only three people to fend off the rest of them. I stood, pushing the boys behind me and drawing my weapon out when I heard, “Quīntī Cohortis! Percute!”

To my relief, I saw the fifth cohort marching in upon the mob of shades, though where they had come from, I didn’t know. Honestly, I didn’t care. Many of the shades had heard the call and turned to fight the new enemy, giving Thanatos an easier time of reaching out to each and every shade. I joined rank with Reyna, Frank and Dakota, keeping the mob away from the boys.

The next ten minutes were hard fighting, but the numbers slowly dwindled. Between us and the Fifth Cohort, Thanatos sent every shade back to the Underworld. When there were only a few left, Tisander saw he was losing and rage filled, he tried to slash at my neck. I parried, and Thanatos, hovering behind him, tapped the boy on the shoulder, saying, “I think that’s enough of that.”

When at last all of the shades before us were defeated, I took a deep breath. Sheathing my sword I turned to face the two boys I had protected this long fight. Mermeros hugged Pheres tight, facing his younger brother away from the action. But he had seen everything which had transpired. “Nico, will...will that happen to us?”

“Your Lord and father has heard you making oaths on the River Styx, Nico di Angelo,” Thanatos said, before I had a chance to respond to Mermeros’ question.

“And what does my Lord and father say to my oaths?” I asked, turning back to Thanatos.

Thanatos smiled at me, as radiant as ever. “He agrees to the terms you set forward, Nico. Worry not, the children will be well treated. But they do still need to return to the Underworld.”

“May...” Mermeros paused as Thanatos’ eyes fell on him. “May Nico come with us, Lord Death?”

“If she should so choose,” Thanatos replied. “Certainly, the judges will need her testimony.”

“Of course I’ll come with you,” I told them. Mermeros nodded, eyes watering, and held his hand out for me to take. Pheres was still sniffling, but he clasped my other hand with his.

“When this is all over, come back to New Rome,” said Reyna. “There’s much to discuss.” Reyna the centurion and former praetor’s voice seeped into the voice of Reyna my friend. I nodded to her, accepting her request.

I turned out onto the crowd of the Fifth Cohort, and found Hazel’s face. She was tending to one of her fellows, but looked up at me. I nodded to her as I told Frank, “Give her my love, will you?”

And with that, I shadow traveled into the Underworld.

 

 


	3. Trials/Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for this chapter: during the trial scene, Nico has to recount Alcimenes' assault on her. It's very brief, but here is the warning none-the-less.

I walked into Camp Jupiter just before evening assembly. Sneaking into the principia courtyard as the whole camp stood assembled before the offices of the legion, I watched as the centurions called roll. Darius, one of the current praetors, brought forward three young initiates who had made it to Camp from the wolf house. One was accepted by the Third cohort, the next by the Second and the other by the Fifth. Frank stepped up and pledged to look out for his new comrade. The young boy looked much relieved to have found a place in the legion.

After the three young legionnaires were accepted into the ranks, Darius reminded the camp that it was almost time for him to step down. Elections would be held on the summer equinox, and those thinking of running for praetor should make themselves known. Two candidates came forward and named themselves. Darius made a grand speech about honor, glory and serving well the office of praetor.

He stumbled a little when he cast his eyes on me, as I stood in the back, watching the ceremony in the shadows. Admirably, though, Darius picked right back up and kept going. His pause made both Hazel and Frank twitch, and I could tell that they were both tempted to look behind them to see me.

Darius spoke for a few minutes more, and then his fellow Praetor, Julie spoke as well, about what it was like to work together, and for the good of the Legion and New Rome. Julie winked at me, and I, grinning, winked back. After another five minutes or so, both praetors called for the dismissal of the legion, letting them go to supper. Julie, however, beckoned to me to approach the two praetors.

“Ave, Daughter of Hades,” said Julie when I came near. The girl then blinked rapidly and asked, “Or, are you still a son of Hades, but you’re under a spell?”

“Daughter of Hades is correct,” I replied, smoothing out the lines in my red, tunic blouse. “Salvēte, praetores. I humbly request the use of three of your centurions, and one of your legionnaires.”

“For what purpose?” asked Darius, one of his eyebrows arching. “Surely, your Lord could not have come up with another quest so soon.”

“I think my Lord might surprise you,” I replied dryly. “But no, I only require them for the purposes of a debriefing. I would like to give my friends and sister an explanation.”

“Which surely you owe to the whole legion,” Darius told her.

“I owe no one nothing I do not wish to give,” I retorted. Doing the best impression of Father I knew how, I glared at the young man. “I want to tell them, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s no one else’s business.”

Darius, though a little taken aback, held my gaze for a moment before he nodded. “Well met, Daughter of Hades. I give my permission. Jules?”

“You have my permission as well, Nico,” Julie added. She beamed at me again, smiling most radiantly.  “Though if you don’t mind me asking, where are you taking them?”

“We’re just going for pizza in Ocean Bluff,” I said with a shrug.

“Ocean Bluff is at least a hundred miles from here.” Darius furrowed his brows. “It will take at least an hour and a half to get there.”

I shrugged again. “Not by shadow travel.”

Darius opened his mouth to say something, but Julie cut him off. “Just have them back by curfew, ambassador, and there will be no problems.”

“Of course, praetor.” I nodded to her with a little smile.

Julie grinned back at me as she dragged Darius off to the mess hall.

“Damn you have some strong game,” Hazel murmured slipping her arm through mine. She looked down on me. “And what is this?” she asked, waving her hand up and down my outfit.

I wore silver jeans and my normal combat boots. On top, I had a v-neck, red tunic that was a little frayed at the bottom but was otherwise in good condition. Because the straps of the tunic were tiny, and because it laced up between the bust, I wore a black shrug to feel a little more comfortable. A red scarf, tied in a “Rosy the Riveter” style, held back my curly hair.

“You don’t like it?” I asked. Hazel and I had different tastes, of course, but she usually was not overly critical of my appearance.

Hazel rolled her eyes, and Reyna spoke up from behind us. “I think she means that your outfit game is a little too on point.” Reyna had changed out of her camp tee-shirt and wore a simple striped tank top with an unbuttoned, button up over it. She had cut her hair short since the war, and though she maintained it well, her bangs had grown out enough that they swooped across her forehead.

Hazel had gone a little dressy-er. She wore a purple top that slid off one shoulder, fringe dripping down from the collar, accented by simple black beads. Purple and black sandals adorned her feet, and she had rolled up her jeans to show off her legs. Her golden streaks stood out in her locs, which she had tied up. “When did you find the time to dress up between when they called dismissal and now?” I asked.

My little sister did a fine imitation of me and shrugged. “I had a feeling you would come by today, so I set something out. And well, our barracks are closer.”

From the look of it, she had warned Frank and Dakota as well. Frank wore a royal blue button up, but Dakota’s simple, thinning tee had a giant peace sign, with the words “make love, not war” encircling it. Each of them had still chosen to bring at least one weapon, tied somewhere on their person.

“Pizza?” Dakota asked.

I held out my hands. “Grab on.”

Reyna and Dakota took my hands, while Frank and Hazel touched my shoulders. I tried not to squirm as I pulled us all into the shadows and then back out a block away from Jungle Karma Pizza. I tried not to immediately pull away once we were safe on the street, and thankfully everyone pulled away pretty quickly on their own. “C’mon,” I said waving them along. “I called RJ earlier and asked him to have a table ready for us.”

“How’d you even find this pizzeria, much less Ocean Bluffs?” Reyna asked. “This town is so off the map, it’s not even on most maps.”

“Shadow travel accident,” I said. I had meant to hit Camp Jupiter on Father’s orders. After the debacle with Persephone making him a new sword, Father had taken me into his service and told me to start ingratiating myself in New Rome and Camp Jupiter. But, instead of Berkeley, I ended up in Ocean Bluffs during a deluge. Exhausted, hungry, and much before Dad saw fit to grant me a magic wallet, RJ had found me moping in front of Jungle Karma. He took pity on a poor, soggy twelve-going-on-thirteen-year-old, and gave me two free slices of pizza, as well as drying my clothes. “Ever since then,” I said, finishing up my story as we stopped outside of the restaurant, “I always try and find time to come back here.”

The place was busy for a Tuesday, but there was a table for five in one corner, with a card propped up in the center reading “Di Angelo,” in fancy calligraphy. “Nico!” RJ cried, turning my attention to him. He had been behind the counter kneaded dough and stepped out from behind it to greet me. After wiping his hands on his apron, he offered me one and we shook. I reached over to kiss RJ’s cheek, which he returned lightly.

“It’s nice to see you,” I told him. “Thank you for reserving a table for us.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” he told me with a cheeky grin.

“I bet you say that to all of your favorite customers,” I told him with a little grin.

He winked and led us to our table. “I’ll have your pizzas out in just a minute,” he said as we took our seats.

“Do you flirt with everyone?” Reyna asked. “That guy has got to be, what, thirty?”

I frowned at her. “Twenty-nine, actually. And trust me when I say, that wasn’t flirting. I’ve known RJ for almost four years now. He’s just genuinely that nice, and he’s never given me a reason not to be nice back.”

Reyna opened her mouth to say something but just then two servers came by with our pizza. “Let’s see,” said the young, blonde woman as she and her companion set the pizzas on a three tiered tray. “We have a Jungle Thriller, Tiger Surprise, and a special Naples Original.” She took a pen from her pocket along with a notepad and continued to talk. “My name is Lily, by the way. And what can I get you to drink?”

We ordered water all around, except Dakota, who ordered a diet-Pepsi. Lily finished writing the order and paused in place. “This might sound a little rude, but do you mind if I ask how you know RJ?”

Though I had just told my own friends the circumstances I felt my heart race a little and my face heat up at this presumptuous girl’s question. “I would really rather not.”

“And you’re right,” Hazel added. “That was really rude, you know.”

Lily flushed and shuffled away back to the kitchen.

“Your friend might be nice,” Reyna told me. “But he needs some better customer service.” She frowned at the pizza. “We really should make sacrifices.”

“Let’s save a few slices and take them back to Camp,” said Dakota, already picking up two slices of the vegetarian Jungle Thriller.

We all agreed that was best and selected a few slices to eat. The Tiger surprise was a meat lovers and the Naples Original was something RJ always made special for me. It had nothing more than cheese, herbs, garlic and a light use of tomato sauce. We munched, making small talk until a new server, a blonde boy came around with our drinks.

“It’s not my place,” he said, passing out the four waters and the Pepsi, “nor is it an apology, but Lily is really embarassed by what she said. Anyway, my name is Casey, and just flag me down if you require any refills or what something else to eat. RJ said you might like to be left alone.”

“Thank you,” I said as he left the table.

“So then,” said Reyna, leaning back in her chair. “I think we can all guess what happened up until we found you in your cell. What I really want to know is, what happened after you left us for the Underworld.”

My friends and sister nodded, and I sighed. Taking a deep breath, I started my tale.

 

The Underworld was as dark and dreary as ever, but with two little boys hanging on my arms it seemed even darker and drearer. Pheres curled into my side, and Mermeros gripped my hand tightly as he started to shake.

“I don’t like this place,” Pheres murmured. “Please, can we leave Nico?”

It was then I felt like all sense of duty abandoned me. I wanted to take the boys as far away as I could, as fast as I could. But where could I run that would not be two far for my father to go? And even now, though it had been but moments since bringing them back, Pheres and Mermeros began to loose form. I could still hold them, they were still solid to a degree, but Death was seeping into them once more.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to see Thanatos there. “Give me hold of the younger,” he directed. “The elder will follow him.”

“Pheres, you must go with Lord Thanatos now,” I said, losing my grip from his hand. I ran my fingers through his hair, ruffling it. Thanatos, as if it were no matter, hefted the healthy nine-year-old into his arms. Pheres clung to Thanatos for a moment, but then reached out for me.

“Nico, please don’t let him take me!”

“We’re only going to the palace for now,” I said. I looked to Thanatos for confirmation, who nodded to me. “Mermeros and I will be right behind you. You can watch as as we walk together.”

Thanatos took that as a sign to begin walking. Pheres clung to him again, throwing his arms around Thanatos’ neck and resting his chin on Death’s shoulder to watch us walk. Mermeros squeezed my hand and practically pulled me along to keep pace with the god. “They won’t hurt us will they?” Mermeros whispered to me. “If they want to hurt us, tell them to take all the hurt on me, and don’t let them touch Pheres. He was practically a baby the first time.”

“I won’t let them hurt Pheres if I can help it,” I told him. It was his words that made me wonder, and ask what I did next. “Mermeros, how long were you in the mortal world with your brothers?”

He bit his lip and was quiet for several minutes. We had almost reached the palace doors when he spoke. “I don’t know precisely,” he said. “But I was just a little older than the age Pheres is now, so nearly two years, I believe.”

That had to put his and his brothers’ escape shortly after Thanatos’ capture, and Alcimenes had predicted that in two weeks they would have been fully mortal. I could not have confirmed exactly, but he and the shades he commanded were so human I held no power over them. That did not bode well, for any shades who had escaped directly after Thanatos had been captured could already be mortal again.

I had to speak to my father.

“Nico?”

I looked down at Mermeros and did my best to smile. “Sorry, sweetie, I was thinking for a minute.”

He smiled back tentatively, but his smile dropped seconds later, his eyes going wide as the palace doors opened. Inside the entry hall stood my father, twenty feet tall and bathed in godly aura. We were still a good distance away, but even from where we stood one could be perfectly well intimidated by my father.

“He’s not all bad,” I said, half to convince Pheres, half to convince myself. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

Pheres still squeezed my hand even tighter, until I began to lose feeling in my hand.

Great job, Dad, scare the little kids half to death. Ugh, have you even been around small children before?

Your irony is not appreciated. I blinked as I heard a second voice in my head, but then I realized Dad had heard my thoughts as a prayer. And I’ve been around small children more than you, young lady. I helped raise you and your sister after all.

Sometimes, given that my memories of the time before the Lotus Casino were still returning, I forgot that Father had actually been pretty involved with Bianca and I when we were younger. I had small memories here and there, of bedtime stories and suppers together. Dad even played with me as a child, which was hard to imagine being real.

They were real, came his soft, but insistent voice. I promise you, they were real.

I drew myself out of memory and prayer as Mermeros resumed squeezing my hand. We had kept walking while Dad and I spoke mind to mind, and now stood before him.

“Mermeros and Pheres, sons of Jason and Medea,” Dad boomed. “My daughter had made you a deal that in exchange for your information, you will be spared a harsher fate by the judges of the Underworld. Do you still stand by your decision? Or will you join your elder brothers in their fate.”

“We stand by it, Lord Hades!” Mermeros shouted as he shook next to me.

“Very well,” said Father. “Then you shall reveal to me how you kept gods from finding you in the days preceding your trial. Lady Nicolina shall escort you to a suite of rooms. Thanatos, to me.”

Thanatos set Pheres on the floor and flew off to assist my father. I took the second brother by the hand and set off to find the palace matron and steward to see if we had a suite available, or to ask if one could be made available. Two skeleton guards followed closely behind us. When we had left my father’s presence, the boys appeared to shake less, and become somewhat more lively.

“Lord Hades won’t be like that always, will he Nico?” Pheres asked. “The gods can appear as men, can’t they?”

“They can,” I said. “But I am not sure what my father will do. His will is sometimes a mystery to me.”

I found the palace steward first, and he told me that my father had not let it be known that we would have guests. I ground my teeth together at the news. Technically, when Persephone was away, I was the lady of the palace, meaning that I was the one who should have made all such arrangements. So naturally, my father had chosen not to, simply to be difficult.  “Then make ready a suite, one suitable for two boys,” I told him. “I will hold them in my room until it is ready.”

The steward bowed and wandered off, and I directed the two boys to my room. “Nico what was he?” Mermeros asked as soon as the steward was out of earshot.

“I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t be polite to ask,” I told him. In truth, most of the palace staff were neither shade, nor skeleton. They were human, or, at least, they looked like they were human. Their flesh though pale and sallow, covered a network of veins and muscle and, most importantly, was solid, unlike that of a shade. But though their hearts beat, I hesitate to say they were alive. I had never seen anyone like them outside of my father’s palace—no where in the whole of the Underworld, and definitely not above ground, did a people like these exist. For whatever reason, they served my father loyally, and, by proxy, they gave me that same loyalty and devotion.

I ordered the soldiers to wait outside my room, while I waited with the boys. I did not have much to do, but I found a deck of cards and let them play together while I began writing out a report of what had passed on my mission.

I bet other demi-gods don’t have to write these, I thought to myself.

You are so much more than other demi-gods, Father thought to me.

I jumped in my seat, nearly smacking my knee on the desk. I really wasn’t praying that time!

No, but I have need of you. When you have housed our...guests, make yourself acceptable and come to me. We have much to discuss. Bring your finished report.

I sighed—that meant he wanted me bathed and properly dressed, along with a detailed account of what had happened to me. Have I done something wrong? I wondered. I only did as you asked. But this time, no other voice sounded off in my head. I stared down at my report for a minute before I continued writing.

The palace matron joined us shortly after I finished writing most of what I could remember, in the best detail I could. I then had to ask her to send someone to attend me, giving her specific details of how quickly I needed to be ready, and what I would need to wear. She clucked disapprovingly at me. “You need your handmaid, my lady.”

“I don’t think I’m here enough to have a full time attendant,” I replied but she only shook her head.

I escorted the boys to their new room, made them promise not to do magic or escape. Leaving the skeleton guards outside their room, I hustled back to my own. Inside, I found three young women, with apparently nothing better to do than look after me. As I opened the door, they all looked to me, going over my figure up and down a few times, assessing the work to be done. The one closest to me, who had been laying out clothing on my bed, took me by the hand and led me into the room, “Come, Lady Nicolina, there is much to be done.”

They worked in unison, never running into each other, and never redoing work that any of the other two had done. They stripped me gently, guiding me until a basin where I stood as they washed me down, and scrubbed clean my hair. Despite this being a cold way to bathe, I think I felt more clean than I ever had before after that bath. They then dried me and set to work dressing.

One maid worked on my hair, braiding the curls into a crown around my head and adorned me with a set of laurels. I protested, but she protested louder, as she pinned it on, “You are the champion of the Underworld, my lady. People sing songs about you.” I didn’t know about that, but I protested no further.

The other maids worked on my clothing. They pinned up an under tunic of bright crimson with gold border, then over that a peplos of shimmering gold cloth. I thought for sure they would dress me in black, as it was practically the only color I owned. But when they buckled on my armor, I was not disappointed. There was no mistaking the feel of the breast plate reinforced with stygian iron, or the buckles that held it up. Even the metal in the belt and scabbard they buckled on me were made of the stuff that felt like the underworld itself, cold and inviting, like a dip in a clear stream on a summer’s day. The stygian iron felt like death even through several layers of cloth. As a daughter of Hades I was lucky I could resist.

The last touch was to line my eyes with kohl and gold shadow, and then place my report in my hand, before the handmaidens pushed me out the door to my meeting with Father and his council.

Naturally, Dad’s lieutenants, the judges, and the other gods who resided in the Underworld were all waiting with my twenty-foot father. I ought to have expected it, but instead it only made my heart beat faster and louder until I was sure the whole hall must have been echoing with the noise.

To Dad’s immediate left, sat Alecto, lead fury dressed in battle armor, her hand twitching against her whip. To his right was Thanatos, dressed as usual in his dark robes, though a seat over from Dad, as the throne directly on his right belonged to Persephone. Charon was next to Thanatos, Hecate beside him, and Hypnos sat on the end, blinking wearily. Next to Alecto, however, sat the judges of the Underworld.

Minos sneered at me as I approached, and his fellow judges, Rhadamanthus and Aeacus, looked on me none too pleased as they sat on Dad’s left in the furthest seats from him. Must like the palace staff, the judges were more corporeal than the others—neither human nor shade, but somewhere in between—when they were in the Underworld at least. Befitting their titles and rank, they were arrayed in fine, kingly garb and precious adornments.

Near them, guarded by a company of six soldiers stood Alcimenes and Tisander, dressed in plain white tunics, wrapped and chains and gagged. I ignored them and walked on.

When I came close enough, I bowed low to my father, bending my knee to rest on it.

“Nicolina di Angelo,” Father said, his voice booming through the hall in godly tenor, “daughter of mine. Rise now and speak: testify your account of the capture of some 100 shades, led by Alcimenes and Tisander, the sons of Jason and Medea.”

I got to my feet and looked at all who assembled. As my eyes roved across them, they snapped back to the floor in front of my before I could look at the two captive shades. I coughed, and unrolled my report. “When I traveled to the location of the camp, which the shades occupied, I was overwhelmed by their number—”

“You were captured,” said Minos. “Speak plainly, daughter of Hades. We judges have little patience for you of late.”

I flushed. Rolling my report back up, I kept speaking. “Yes, King Minos, I was captured after they overwhelmed me. Alcimenes, son of Jason and Medea, held me for a week. During this time, it was only he with whom I had contact. All through this time, I attempted to convince him to return to the underworld but was unsuccessful. After the week, it became clear to me that Alcimenes meant to kill me—”

“Why?” This time, Radamanthus interrupted me. He, unlike Minos, was not being a dick, but appeared genuinely confused—his face furrowed around his mouth and eyes.

I flushed darker, the heat of my face traveling down into my throat until it expanded so far I couldn’t breathe. I struggled to keep my head up, but I managed to look him in the eye when I said, “I refused him.”

Rhadamanthus nodded, understanding blooming across his whole face. Indeed, many in the room appeared to mimic the first judge, but Minos sneered at me. “Refused him, what, demi-god?” Minos asked.

My embarrassment gave way to anger, and before I knew I had spoken I said, “Sex, King Minos. I refused to let him fuck me. Evidently, Alcimenes is not the only one who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Several in the room coughed all at once, although Thanatos outright laughed. Minos opened his mouth to speak, but Death held up a hand. “Continue, Lady Nicolina. And start from the beginning.”

I recounted my tail at greater length. I spoke of being overwhelmed, being captured, and of speaking with my captor. Only Rhadamanthus questioned me out of the judges, Aeacus content to let his brother do the talking, and Minos sulking in his place beside them. How many times had I offered Alcimenes redemption, Rhadamanthus asked. At least once every time he visited me, so that made at least twenty one attempts.

Was he slow to anger, or quick? Quick, very quick. Other questions flew by about my time in captivity. Did he treat me well for a captive? Yes. How did he run his camp? I didn’t know. Still there were more. At last Rhadamanthus coughed into his hands, looking to the assembled gods and his brother judges for a moment. He turned to me, speaking slowly, “Lady Nicolina, daughter of Hades, you have given valid testimony toward Alcimenes, son of Jason and Medea. I must ask you something more of his sins though, before we allow you to recount more of your story. After you refused him, did the one in question attempt to force himself on you?”

When I heard the question, it was as if a switch went on in my mind. Suddenly, I was no longer in control of my body, but instead it felt like I was dreaming. I did not feel the cold air of the underworld raising goose flesh on my skin. No muscle  tightened or tensed within me. I did not feel myself swallow to wet my mouth and throat, sore and parched from speaking. I looked on myself from a distance, and that is how I know, I only whispered, “Yes.”

Rhadamanthus opened his mouth, but said nothing, so Aeacus spoke next, “And was he successful, my lady?”

“No, I bested him.”

“How?” Minos asked without delay.

My body moved of its own accord, and I turned to stare at the third judge. “I wrapped my thighs around his neck. I squeezed until he could not breathe. And then I waited until he passed out.”

The hall fell silent. My head felt heavy, and I would have let it roll to the side. Then, I remembered I was standing in front of my father. The thought kept me upright, at least for a moment. Then all at once, I heard my name called. “Lady Nicolina,” said Thanatos, “you may finish your account.”

His voice drew me back into my body all at once. My nerves flared up again, though not nearly as badly as before. Overwhelmingly, once the ordeal was done, I felt more calm than I had before. I cleared the lump in my throat, wondering why it had appeared in the first place, and talked on. There were no more questions as I described the entrance of the Roman trio, making my deal with Mermeros and Pheres, Thanatos’ arrival, followed by that of the Fifth cohort.

When I finished, I stood trying to quench my parched throat, trying not to look at the council, but not at the floor, or do anything else which would make me look weak.

Rhadamanthus looked to his fellow judges and the three of them conferred silently with one another, by way of looks and the occasional hand gesture. At last, the first judged looked me in the eye and spoke, “During your time among the shades, you promised the two younger brothers, Mermeros and Pheres, sons of Jason and Medea—”

Here, the old king was cut off by the rattling of chains and the gagged shouts of both Alcimenes and Tisander. The skeleton guards struck them with the butts of their sword handles, the sickening sounds of metal echoing in the hall. I winced at the noise. When they fell silent, Rhadamanthus took up his questioning once more. “You, daughter of Hades, made a pact with Mermeros and Pheres, the younger sons of Jason and Medea, saying that if they revealed to you how they managed to force out the gods, you would take up their cause.”

“Was there a question there, your honor?”

“Is this the truth?”

I shrugged. “It is. I swore it on Styx herself.”

Minos hissed, but Aeacus cut him off by asking me, “By what authority did you swear this?”

I frowned. I really had no authority in the Underworld. Sure, they foisted missions on me when the gods were too busy, or just didn’t want to do something. But I wasn’t actually one of my father’s lieutenants. I had to think quickly as well, because they all kept staring at me expectantly—even the gods who liked to watch everyone squirm.

“I did what I deemed necessary and helpful in order to complete a quest given to me by my Lord father,” I said slowly. “Nor did I promise that their action or inaction would truly change their sentence one way or another. I merely said that I would do my best to represent the four of them, and that should they reveal their ability to repeal the gods then it would probably bode well for them. I also said that that was a matter for my Lord Hades, and never said it was me who decided their fates.”

“Then you do not claim to have offered them salvation in claim for their compliance?” Rhadamanthus asked.

“No, I never claimed that at all,” I said.

“Good, to other—”

“However,” I interrupted. “Should you perhaps not be more lenient, with the children, who are innocents to a point, they will probably not reveal their secrets. Others could learn of their tales, and we many never know how to break the barriers which block out the gods.”

Jaws slackened around the room, and several of them leaned forward ready to speak at me. Rhadamanthus beat all of them to it, “Do you mean to threaten us, Lady Nicolina?”

“No, your Honor,” I replied with a shrug. “I only mean to say that there is a possibility that this is what the boys may do. I only speak my own mind, not that of others.”

Rhadamanthus opened his mouth again, but Father waved his hands to silence everyone. “That is enough. Nicolina, have you anything further to offer for your testimony?”

I looked over once to where Alcimenes stood with Tisander. I thought of their poor younger brothers, who cried and could not control themselves at the sight of a crowd. “What they did, they did out of a will to live,” I said, turning my eyes back on the council. “They are no more guilty for that than any other human or even any other being who has come before you. I ask, I do not think to command or threaten, but I ask that this council know this thing which I have said, and to find mercy for the sons of Jason and Medea in their understanding.”

All around the room, their eyes glazed during my speech. Minos flat out rolled his eyes at my words, and Hypnos nodded off in the short time I had spoken. I would one day stand before the judges; would they be this uncaring of my motives? Though what Alcimenes had attempted still weighed heavy on me, had he truly wronged the gods, most of all my father, in such a way that it deserved eternal punishment, and such divine apathy?

“If these are your final words, you may step down, Nicolina, daughter of Hades,” said Father. “You are to care for the younger brothers, Mermeros and Pheres, until the time of their trial. See that you do well in this task.”

“Yes, my Lord.” I bowed low, and walked backwards until I could no longer feel his eyes on me.

 

I paused in my tale to take a drink of water. Casey appeared over my shoulder with a pitcher to refill. During the more tense moments of the story, he made sure to appear and offer his services to me, which made it seem like he was listening along. I, of course, did not describe to my friends what happened in such full detail as I have written, but none-the-less the story riveted them.

“What happened next?” Frank asked.

“I kept the boys occupied for a night, a day and a night,” I said, setting down the class. I admired the rings of condensation it left behind on the coster. “Then Dad asked for them, and after that took them straight to their trial. I didn’t see them, but they were all sentenced to Asphodel again. I have a strong suspicion that Mermeros and Pheres interceded for their older brothers, but it’s only a suspicion. Dad didn’t let me watch the trials. I asked to be dismissed, then came upward.”

“That doesn’t figure,” Reyna retorted. “You waited almost a week until you came to see us.”

“Well, count a day for food and rest,” said Hazel. “Can’t eat in the Underworld. That almost figures, given that it’s been about five days, this being the fifth.” She twisted her nose and mouth to the side, by use of her facial muscles, and took a good look at me. “You weren’t with Chrys were you?”

“Who’s Chrys?” asked Dakota.

I hunched over, feeling all the air rush out of me in a single woosh. “My ex,” I mumbled.

“Oh Nico,” Hazel murmured. She wrapped her arms around me, and we shared body heat together that felt like comfort. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Do we need to beat someone up?” Frank asked.

“No, no beating,” I said. My head jerked up, nearly bumping with Hazel’s. “Please, I just...I hadn’t seen Chrys in a while. I texted her about this,” I said gesturing to all of me, “and then...things happened...and I just needed a little time to recover.”

“And then?” Reyna asked.

“And then tonight I took you all out to pizza,” I said. I pulled out my pocket watch. “Speaking of which, we need to go. Curfew is in a half hour.”

The Romans said nothing more. We all stood, stretching out our unused muscles. I had paid in advance, but left a tip of Casey who had been an attentive server, despite his coworker’s rudeness. As we stood straightening ourselves, though, a group of loud, bustling martial artists came through the door. One of them wore what looked like a championship belt over his shoulder. The others still wore their gis with tennis shoes and leather jackets. Oddly enough, they appeared to represent the whole rainbow in their wardrobe.

Lily, who stood at the register, greeted them all fondly, calling out several names, and looked over to where we stood (trying to find a way out of the large group of twenty or thirty people). I realized that the section we were in could have seated almost all of the party out right, and so she was checking to hasten our departure. I waved to her, hoping it was enough of a symbol for the group to make way.

Then, one by one, the colorful group looked at us. “Is there a renaissance fair in town?” asked a tall man with spiky brown hair and, in my opinion, a horrible, little goatee.

“Could you please move?” I replied. “You’re blocking the exit.”

Like some horrible hive mind, they froze as one. I think it must have been the sound of my voice, for all I had done was speak. Hazel nudged me, and pulled on the Black Sword, until the belt moved taking the handle out of my reach.

“What are you?” asked horrible goatee man.

“Please move, you’re blocking the exit,” I repeated.

“Don’t make me ask again: what are you?” he said.

I tried for the impression of Dad again—he did something where he could make the temperature of the room drop, and lengthen his shadow to appear more intimidating. To my knowledge, I don’t know if this worked, but the group went a shade tenser, some turning into fighting stances. “Who is the word you are looking for, sir, not what. I am a person, not a thing. Return to grammar school if the difference continues to elude you. Now please, step aside, or my friends and I will be late.”

“She’s asked very nicely, Dr. Oliver.” Without my notice, RJ had come to stand beside me. At his appearance, the Dr. Oliver character took a step back and looked to him.

“Don’t tell me you missed it, RJ,” said Dr. Oliver. “The energy around these kids...”

“Now is neither the time nor the place, nor are you the person to press them,” said RJ. He made me feel sleepy, like I was drinking a glass of milk and honey and the warmth filled my stomach. “Nico and her friends mean no harm.”

“You expect us to believe to believe they’re harmless?” asked one of the doctor’s friends.

“Ability and will are separate things,” I said. “But just because I can harm you, doesn’t mean I’m going to. And even though you appear extremely prejudiced, I highly doubt that you want to harm me either. Really, all I want to do is get out of here, see my friends home and go home myself.”

Dr. Oliver frowned, but looked to those who blocked the door. They moved out of the way, just enough for us to file out one by one. Reyna took the lead, followed by Hazel. They both kept their hands on their weapons. I handed a few bills to RJ, “For the others who we disturbed. You can offer them their meals free.”

“You’re too kind, Nico,” he told me. I went to move toward the door, but had to wait for Dakota to follow me, as he slipped a piece of paper into RJ’s hands. It was our reservation card, but with ten digits on the back.

“Call me,” Dakota suggested, stopping to press a kiss to RJ’s cheek.

“Really?” I asked as we stepped out onto the street, Frank pulling up our rear.

“He was a kindred spirit, I could tell,” Dakota said. “And man, he must really like you. Those people, did you feel their power? It was subtle, but strong.”

“Yes,” Reyna agreed. “And Nico, the next time we go up against people who can see through the mist and think we’re strange, try not to start smelling like death, would you?”

I flushed, and ducked into the first alley up ahead eager to rid myself of their snickers. “Ready for shadow travel?” I asked, delighted to see the grins drop from their faces.  


	4. Tears/Time-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I scooted down a little. “I know what you mean. I drink wine with my family for dinner and stuff like that, but I tried once at a party and it was disgusting.”
> 
> “Right?” he asked with a laugh. “I’m Butch by the way.”
> 
> I hesitated, staring at his proffered hand. Chrys’s guilt striking face lingered in my mind’s eye for just long enough for me to take his hand and say, “Nico, we know each other from camp.”
> 
> “Do we?” he asked. He looked me over once or twice and then nodded. “di Angelo, right? Hades kid?”
> 
> I nodded.
> 
> “I had no idea you were in transition,” he said.
> 
> “Not many people do.”

I shadow traveled back to my New York apartment, with ease. I sacrificed a slice of pizza to Dad and then opened up a pint of ice cream to eat in front of my tv. Unfortunately, that was when my phone started to blow up.

It started with Chrys texting —are we okay? u angry?—

I sighed and ruminated over the melting icecream pieces in my mouth. —don’t think i’m mad, but i need space k?—

—k—Chrys replied. —text me sometime soon?—

—will try my best— I had to delete “I love you” before I sent it. Chrys probably didn’t want to hear that from me right now.

The next set of text messages came from Dad, who texted intermittently with Chrys.

—Where are you?—

—my apartment. Did you need me to do something?—

—When did you leave?—

—The other day—

—Which day?—

I had to do some mental math. How long had it been since this whole thing started? April first was when Hera summoned me, and on April fourth I met with Dad. April seventh when I was captured, April fifteenth when I was released. A night, a day and a night, like I had told Reyna, and that meant that Dad had taken the boys from me on the sixteenth.

—The sixteenth—I told him. —Right after the trial. You said you had nothing else for me?—

—I did.—

I thought he was done, but a few minutes after that, he texted —what have you done since your departure?—

I ate another bite of ice cream. Dad, no doubt, would not care to hear the details of my break up. Hell, I don’t think I ever told him I was seeing anyone. —I rested—I texted at last. —And then I went out with some friends.—

It was true, even if I didn’t mean Hazel, Frank, Reyna and Dakota. When I had woken up after a nice long nap, I texted almost all of my contacts about what happened. It was, perhaps, an ineffective way to tell your friends that you have a new body. But I said to send an email if anyone wanted any more details. Chrys, however, just showed up while I was practicing scales while dinner finished off in the oven and flounced into my apartment.

“I’m pretty sure I locked that door.”

Chrysanta frowned and flicked her red braid, made up of much smaller braids, off of her shoulder. “I keep telling you, you need to have this place warded.”

I grinned at her. Rising from my seat, I wrapped my arms around her, and we kissed short and sweet. “Oh, as if I would keep you out of my wards.”

Chrys just rolled her eyes at me. “Really, Nico, a text message? You couldn’t have called?”

“I had a lot of people to tell,” I whined. “I was going to invite you over as soon as I finished dinner. Speaking of which, do you want some?”

Chrys rolled her eyes again, but this time she smiled. “Sure, what did you make?”

I fixed us both a plate of chicken parmesan when it was ready while Chrys chatted at me. “When you say that you texted your friends, do you mean all of your friends?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, how many demi-gods have you come out to?”

I shrugged. “Not a lot. My sister, Frank, Reyna, Dakota. Jason knows I’m queer, but that’s it.”

Chrys frowned at me, but dropped the subject. It was difficult for her to see why I wanted to hide. She was out to everyone, about being trans and about being bi, to everyone in her life, even people who hated it like her dad. And though her dad had kicked her out for it, her foster family had been quick to swoop down and save her, so her life had gotten better as a result of her coming out.

I still had no idea what would happen with Camp Half-blood. It had been easier to show up at Camp Jupiter and declare myself a woman, because SPQR meant everything to them. It didn’t matter if someone was trans, genderqueer, cis, bi, queer, gay or straight. If they marched under the standard, they were Romans. And Romans did not turn their backs on one another. It allowed them to be very open minded, and since I was sort of an adopted Roman they seemed extra ready to accept me.

While Camp Half-blood wasn’t exactly behind the times, I had never really seen demonstrations of people being okay with queerness of any kind. People made gay jokes with some frequency. I had overheard more than one hushed confession of non-straightness to friends, followed by pleas not to tell anyone. I saw no queer couples there. I’m not saying that I thought Camp Half-blood would up and lynch me. Though they were a little put off by my being a child of Hades, they still accepted me, sort of, for who I was. Certainly, when I had had to visit for whatever emergency, people had often been glad to see me. People kept in touch. As Hazel put it, they wanted to be and acted as my friends.

But the horror stories of the world told me that friends had left their friends for being gay. Trans people were beaten up or attempted suicide because of the negative reactions of their peers and family. Every time I thought about telling Camp Half-Blood, my heart pounded, I wanted to throw up and occasionally it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t ready to take the risk.

“So, what brings you by?” I asked Chrys to take my mind off of the camp, as I set down a plate of chicken parmesan in front of her. “Or was it just to express your displeasure in my general direction?”

Chrys began slicing up her chicken as she spoke. “Actually, I was going to come by and see if you were in tonight anyway. There’s a party.”

I groaned. Chrysanta, the total extrovert loved to go out and dance among throngs of other people. She loved socializing, and she could go for hours just talking or existing in the same space as others without ever once feeling tired. I, an introvert, hated it.

“Oh don’t whine, you big baby,” she retorted, taking a bite of the food. “Mm...this is really good.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“Anyway, the party is in Ithaca, so it will definitely be small.”

“Define small.”

“No more than a hundred people—probably closer to fifty now that I think about it, but definitely no more than a hundred. I got invited to go, so I thought it might be fun. Plus, I haven’t seen you in over two weeks, and I think your transformation is cause for celebration, don’t you?”

I tried to focus on the juicy chicken and tomato sauce making flavor explosions in my mouth, instead of the look Chrys was leveling at me. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll go with you. But I just got back from a quest, so when I say I wanna bail, it’s not just because of the party, okay?”

Chrysanta glowed—and I do mean she literally glowed at me. “When you’re ready to leave, we’ll go, I swear. But since we are going out...” She reached into her bag and pulled out a purple dress on a hanger. (Chrys has a sort of Mary Poppins bag, and I do mean that in a more literal sense, as in I could never see the bottom. I don’t know how she worked it, but she could put anything in there, making her one of the most prepared people I knew). I knew she meant the dress for me by the color, but it was really like nothing I had worn before. It had one shoulder strap, and the skirt floofed up with the help of many petticoats and a lace overlay.

“Okay,” I agreed to the unspoken question.

Chrys glowed again, illuminating her dusky skin.

We finished supper, and I let Chrys make me up. She tamed my curls into loose waves, made up my face with concealer, powder and smoky eyes, and then rooted through my accessories to match with the dress. She picked a familiar, dressy belt, and a pair of low-heel, knee high boots for me. She, however, dressed in something completely different—a black leather, scoop neck mini-dress and stiletto high heels were all she needed. Both of them had metal spikes that studded the leather. I was glad then, because I don’t think I could have pulled off either item.

When Chrys deemed us both ready, we shadow traveled to upstate New York. I got us about twenty yards away from a house glowing with multi-colored lights and thumping a little bit to some music. Chrys lived in Newark with her foster family when she wasn’t going to college. Her foster mother, Kjersten, ran a brewery and distillery in the area, and Rand, her foster brother, helped with the business when he wasn’t in school. How she found out about the party, I had no idea, until I saw Rand standing near the door.

What he was doing in this house greeting us with a “Heeey! Chrys! Nico! So good to see you!” I still have no idea. Rand is also an extrovert, and I find they make friends in strange ways.

He grabbed Chrys for a hug, and then came after me. I had to try not to cringe or tense when he hugged me—I think even if I weren’t averse to people touching me I would have had to try hard. Rand, firstly, is six-foot-four and loaded with muscle from a lifetime of martial arts and summer jobs doing heavy lifting at his mother’s business. Secondly, he was drunk as hell, and the smell of beer and spirits wafted off of him as he spoke.

“You guys want a drink?” Rand asked when he pulled off me.

“Just water,” I said.

“I’ll take a beer,” said Chrys, taking me hand.

As Rand led us through a small crowd of people to where the kitchen was, I asked Chrys, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” she said with a smile.

I wanted to say because she never drank at parties. Besides being underage, she thought it was a bad idea to drink with a lot of people around, unless you could trust every single person in the room. She always partied safe. Instead, I said, “It’s nothing, forget about it.”

Chrys forgot about it and accepted the beer Rand offered to her. I took the water bottle he gave me and wished desperately for some pockets to store it for later.

“Oh yeah!” said Rand. “Axel,” son of Odin, whom I had never met, “wanted to talk to you Chrys, do you think you can spare a minute?”

Chrys looked to me. I fought back a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine, sweetie. I’ll find a place to hang out.”

“You're the best,” she murmured, squeezing my hand. I reached over to kiss her, but she turned away and followed Rand before I could. This time I didn’t fight back the sigh, but no one was around to hear it.

I gripped my water bottle tight as I moved through the crowd of dancing strangers that occupied the living room area of the house. All of the furniture had been pushed up against the walls, so I made for those and collapsed onto a couch, like a drowning sailor collapses onto a beach. I stood up again to make sure I didn’t wrinkle my skirt and heard a chuckle off to my side.

Sitting in an armchair at the couch’s other end was a guy about my age. He was tall, I could tell by the way his legs sprawled out in front of him, and his bare arms, if not his barrel chest, revealed his muscled frame. He certainly wasn’t as big as Rand, but he was no walking stick. His shaved head was barely covered in brown fuzz. His eyes were a heterochromatic mix on either side of his wide nose, which set off his square jaw. He held a copy of Gulliver’s Travels in his hands, open to about the middle of the book. It was the rainbow tattoo on his bicep which gave him away as someone I knew

“You DDing tonight?” he asked.   
“No, my girlfriend just ditched me to talk with another friend of hers,” I said. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I came home for a few days, and some friends wanted to come to this party. I’m not much of a party drinker, so they asked if I would DD.”

“Don’t like alcohol?”

“No, I love alcohol,” he said. “But I’m eighteen. Plus, they only get the cheap stuff at parties.”

I scooted down a little. “I know what you mean. I drink wine with my family for dinner and stuff like that, but I tried once at a party and it was disgusting.”

“Right?” he asked with a laugh. “I’m Butch by the way.”

I hesitated, staring at his proffered hand. Chrys’s guilt striking face lingered in my mind’s eye for just long enough for me to take his hand and say, “Nico, we know each other from camp.”

“Do we?” he asked. He looked me over once or twice and then nodded. “di Angelo, right? Hades kid?”

I nodded.

“I had no idea you were in transition,” he said.

“Not many people do.”

He nodded at me. “That’s cool. From one QUILTBAG kid to another, I know what it’s like trying to come out to everyone you know. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

I exhaled and realized I had been holding my breath. “That would be really, really awesome of you.”

He laughed, smiled a little and nodded. “Of course.”

“So why Gulliver’s Travels?” I asked.

“Eh,” he said. “I have to write a paper on it, and it’s usually better if I have more time for those. So, I’m trying to finish it before we have to be done for class.”

“And how is it?”

“Not my style,” Butch said, marking his place and closing the book. “This Swift guy is annoying and way too political. But I think I can write an essay on it, so there’s that. What about you, where do you go to school?”

“Online high school,” I replied. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Butch gaped for a minute, before he muttered a little “Oh.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“You look like you’re in college, that’s all.” He frowned. “I forgot how young you actually are.

“Oh,” I repeated with more of a sense of finality. “Yeah, I’m sixteen. I should probably get that on a name badge.”

Butch snorted. “Well, like I said, only eighteen. Besides you turn seventeen in January, right? So by the laws of the state of New York, we could totally date and even, y’know.”

I leaned over to whisper, “Eat chicken wings?” It was the first silly thing that came to my mind, but Butch laughed so loud some people who had been dancing looked over at us. “Sorry,” he said.

“No,” I replied. “It’s cool. I like it when people have a sense of humor.”

“So, any idea what you wanna do when you go to college in a few years?” Butch asked.

“If you don’t mind me bragging, it will actually be this fall, not a couple of years, “ I said, with a small shrug. “But, I was thinking of shopping around for the first year,” I said waving my hand in small spirals through the air. “You know there’s all that stuff about being force to decide what you want to do and being miserable later. And well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who aren’t miserable, but I think I would be one of the people who would rather take a little extra time, rather than hate her job the rest of her life.”

“Nice, but what does that look like for college?” Butch asked. “You haven’t been there, yet, but you figure out pretty quick there are some pretty hard and fast deadlines.”

“Well I figured I would just take interesting things for the first  year or so. You know, knockout some requirements and at the same time find something I could be passionate about.”

“Good plan,” He replied. Gulliver’s Travels was completely closed on his lap now as he turned more to face me.

“And you?” I asked. “Any big plans to finish out freshman year?”

“Yes, and it’s pre-vet for now.” He shrugged at me, but then his eyes lit up as he continued speaking, “Pre-vet is meh, but I really just wanna get out there and help horses. Trouble is you need like six years of school to do that.” He rolled his eyes. “Things you find out in college.”

He smiled at me, and I felt for some reason compelled to smile back. “So what do you do outside of ‘online high school?’” he asked.

I answered, talking about my love of swordplay and traveling and writing in my journal, and I didn’t even have to leave out the bits about being a Greek demigod and fighting monsters. I learned that Butch was a middle child of three—his older sister May was studying to be a lawyer. His younger brother Lee, who was gay, he made a point of mentioning, and was still in high school, but would probably go to Ithaca with him at the end of next year.

I was right in the middle of telling Butch about this one time in Dubai when I noticed a clock on the wall and jumped. “What’s wrong?” he asked me.

“It’s just been two hours since I sat down with you, that’s all,” I said, feeling a frown creeping up on my face.

“Wow really?” he turned around to look at the clock behind him. “Huh, time flies I guess. Hey didn’t you say you came here with your girlfriend? Where did she get to?”

“I don’t know, but I think I need to find her,” I said, standing up.

As I smoothed out my dress, Butch got to his feet as well, tucking Gulliver’s Travels under one arm. “Do you want some help? What does she looked like?”

“She’s black, a little taller than me and has long red hair in braids,” I said. “She was wearing a black, leather mini dress. Fuck, and she was drinking tonight too.” I felt my heart start beating faster, and tried to console myself by saying that she had gone off with Rand to see Axel. I had never met Axel, but he was one of Chrys’ best friends, and one of Rand’s as well. She had been with two friends, so surely she should be fine, right?

Butch thumped my back and squeezed my shoulder a little. “Hey, we’ll find her, okay, everything will be alright. Do you know anybody else at the party who might know where she is?”

“Um, really tall muscular guy, with black hair, only his roots are showing so it’s a little red too,” I said.

“Do you mean Rand Siggurdson?” Butch asked. “My dad does business with his mom and they live North of here.”

“Yes! Their friend Axel was also here.” I had never met Axel in person, but Chrys had described him as a blonde, Korean kid, and I relayed that to Butch.

Butch nodded and we set to scouring the party. The main floor we covered easily in a few minutes, getting no sign of Rand, Axel or Chrys. Then we headed up stairs, making a few people who saw us whistle.

I ignored them and pressed up stairs. It was not as congested, though I lost a little hope at the sight of closed doors. But then, inside the only open door, Chrys sat on a double bed sobbing.

I felt all of the worry, compacted in the pit of my stomach, unfold slowly with relief. “Chrys, what’s the matter, baby?” I asked squatting in front of her.

Chrys, though still sobbing, managed to tell me, “I want to break up with you.”

“What?” I startled so much I fell back on my ass.

She burst out into tears a fresh, but managed to sniffle back her sobs enough to say, “Oh, Nico, I don’t want to break up with you but I’ve got to. I’ve got to, you see? I’m not sure anymore if I like girls. And I thought that would be enough. I could tell you and everything was fine, and when I figured this out, maybe we could get back together like it was nothing. But I’ve tried figuring it out while I was with you, and I saw you with him,” she glared at Butch, “downstairs and it just made me so upset. But I’ve got to break up with you, don’t you see? Can’t you see, Sweetheart?”

Chrys became pretty hysterical again, and all I could do was wrap my arms around her and whisper false promises that “it was okay,” and “of course I understood.” I loved her too much to say anything else, and I was in too much shock to be angry or sad or feel anything other than a strange pity for my girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend as she became.

“Do you want me to drive you anyplace?” Butch asked as I held Chrys. “She needs to crash, and you don’t look like you want to drive right now. Wait, did you guys drive?”

“No...just help me get her outside, please?” I begged.

Butch nodded and came a little closer. “Can I pick you up there, Miss? Just want to help you outside. Nico will stay with us the whole time.”

Chrys’ outburst had drained her, and she just sort of slowly nodded, leaning into Butch. “Mmkay,” she murmured. “Nico, hold my hand.”

I took her hand as Butch picked her up. It was little bit of a struggle, and certainly awkward on my shoulder joint, going down stairs and getting outside. But people gave us a pretty wide berth when Butch told them to move or simply gave a glare. For a son of Iris, he was pretty fucking intimidating.

When we got outside the cold air bit at my skin. Butch and I walked some distance from the house where no one would be able to see me shadow travel. “Thank you so much,” I told him.

“Just trying to do what’s right,” he said, as he set Chrys on the ground, making sure she leaned into me. “Listen, are you gonna be at camp this summer?” he asked.

“I dunno, maybe.” I shrugged. “I still don’t know if I’m welcome there, and well,” I waved a hand at my chest, “this.”

“Okay, well...” Butch frowned. “Listen, can I ask Percy to give me your email address? I want to talk to you more, but you’ve got your own worries right now.”

“Sure,” I said with a little smile. “And for the record, I liked talking to you too.”

“Nico, I’m tired,” Chrys murmured against me.

“We better go. Goodnight,” I said.

“Goodnight,” said Butch.

I made sure I had a tight grip on Chrysantha and then we shadow traveled up to Newark where Chrys’ foster mother Kjersten lived. Chrys didn’t seem bothered by the shadow travel at all, just leaned against me, playing with my hair. I figured then would be the best time to ask, “Sweetie, how much did you have to drink?”

“Four, er five,” Chrys muttered. She sighed, repositioning her head on my shoulder and began to fall asleep.

Hopefully, I thought, she just means four or five beers. Chrys held her drink well, but having no idea what she drank, it would be hard to tell how she would take it.

I looked around to see where we had landed, and we stood just fifty feet or so from the Siggurdsons’ front door. A light turned on above the porch, so it seemed Kjersten was expecting us. I picked up Chrys and began to walk, grateful I was wearing the flat bottom boots.

Still, I looked down to watch my footing, and make sure I didn’t trip. When I looked back up, I saw Kjersten Siggurdson standing on the doorstep of her house watching us.

I walked slowly to avoid waking Chrys, but Kjersten still gave me a little bit of a dirty look as she took Chrys into her arms. “This is how you bring her home, Nico? Couldn’t you keep an eye on her?”

“I didn’t know that Chrys needed anyone to lecture her on drinking. If she wants to go off and get drunk at a party that’s her prerogative,” I retorted lowly. “She said she had about four or five. Of what I don’t know.”

Kjersten scowled at me, but nodded. For whatever reason, she was angry at me, maybe on Chrys’ behalf. But she was a good mother, and loved Chrys as much as she loved Rand. She would have moved the Earth for her kids, and while I disliked how she judged me, Kjersten Siggurdson was one person I desperately wished would accept me. She nudged the door behind her closed, and left me standing in the cold.

Traveling through the shadows gave me no relief.

 

I broke out of my flashback as the Game of Thrones theme began to play. Dad was calling.   
“Hello?” I asked when I answered.

“Is there a reason you have chosen to ignore the previous messages I sent you?” he inquired.

I put the call on speaker and checked my messages. He had, indeed, sent me four of them. “I’m sorry, Dad, I’ve just been thinking very hard.”

“Perhaps about a red-headed daughter of Freyja?” he inquired.

“How...have you had me followed?” I asked.

“To a point,” he replied. “I would like to meet you in person to speak.”

I ran a hand through my hair, tangling them in the curls. “Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow? I have a feeling this conversation will be better had with food.”

“Very well; alert me to further details. And Nico? Do not hide anything from me again, do you understand?”

What could I say, when I felt so small? Even over the phone, he had the power to shrink me down, to make my privacy, the things I kept for myself, feel meaningless in comparison to my loyalty to him. “Yes, Father.”

 

I had a general idea of what I had done to piss Dad off, and so decided to be on my best behavior for our lunch meeting. All I needed to do was a little groveling, and then we would be back on the same page with each other. It was how our relationship usually ran—to the tune of a bell curve. I really should have seen it coming with how affectionate he was when I showed up with my new body. I was probably in the pit of the curve now, and could expect a long, steep hike back up to the top of my father’s affections.

This isn’t how our relationship should be, I know. He should love me regardless of circumstance. But when your father is an immortal god, what can you do to protest. Persephone turned me into a plant for disagreeing with her once. What would Dad do to me if I protested the way he treated me sometimes? Besides, it would be alright just as soon as some time had passed.

I dressed nicely, but kept it toned down. I settled on a plain, black dress and threw on a red vest that I had found while thrifting to offset the fact that the dress was strapless. To finish it off, I shrugged into a conservative grey blazer and black sandals. I combed my hair in such a way that my undercut wasn’t visible. I wore no jewelry other than my skull ring.

I was ready far earlier than I had said for Dad to meet me at the restaurant, but flitting about the apartment was doing me no good. Doing one last primp check in the mirror, I pulled on the belt for the Black Sword and shadow traveled to the restaurant.

It might seem odd that my favorite restaurant was called Di Angelos, but there’s a story there. I had been wandering around New York some time after coming out of the labyrinth, but sometime before the Battle of Manhattan. I had just been walking and thinking, when I smelled the most amazing food ever. Suddenly I felt homesick for some place I could not even remember. And there was Di Angelos, like some heavenly chorus, trying to give me a sign.

Sadly, if I’m related to the di Angelos who run this restaurant, it must go back beyond the record books of modern history. But they took me in like I was family, and that’s what counts.

Ofelia, the matriarch of the family, stood at the hostess spot, looking over the seating chart.

“Buon pomerrigio, Signora di Angelo,” I greeted.

She looked up at me and then blinked, once, twice. Gradually her face formed a smile. “Nico,” she said. “Il mia bambina, how long it has been! And look how you have blossomed into a beautiful young woman.” She stepped out from behind the hostess stand and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her in return, grateful to be enveloped in her warmth. “You have been away too long, bambina. You’ve grown so much, and you’re not so skinny any more. And look at what a healthy glow you have!”

“You can say it, Zia Ofelia,” I told her. “I have breasts now, I look more like a woman.” Of course, I had explained to my self appointed aunt and godmother the social constructs of gender, and she understood all of it very well. So she knew that I meant I looked like what society constructed a woman to look like.

She still clucked her tongue at me, because she knew I meant it the other way as well. “But you were always a woman inside, weren’t you?” she asked. “Trust me on this one, Nicolina—the woman on the outside can be made up to be anything. People will gossip about her, tell lies, and some days you may not even trust the woman on the outside. But the woman on the inside you must always trust, for she keeps you strong, she keeps you loving and proud to be who you are.” She tapped me on the nose. “And yes, I am surprised. But I am still going to feed you dinner.”

“I’m very grateful, because I’m meeting my father here this afternoon.”

At this, Zia Ofelia looked down at me with a strange sort of look, squinting with a frown. “Bambina, Nico, your father, has he been treating you well?”

“Pretty well,” I said. “We had an argument, though, which is why we’re meeting for lunch—so we can talk.”

Zia Ofelia nodded, leading me over to a table on the corner of the main room. “Then we’ll give you some privacy, eh? Now, what will you have for antipasto?”

I ordered a variety of cold meats, cheeses, different kinds of olives and other vegetables, but asked for them to hold the plate until my father arrived. “Also, Zia, I know you might not have it, but could you bring me a bottle of Xinomavro please? If you have it in the restaurant, that is?”

Zia Ofelia quirked an eyebrow. “You want a Greek wine, bambina?” Why?”

“Um...” I flushed a little. What Zia Ofelia must have thought of my Italian pride then, I don’t know “I just think Dad might prefer it.”

Zia Ofelia rolled her eyes, as she walked away, muttering, “I knew there must be something wrong with that man...Greek wine...”

Watching her go made a bundle of nerves well up in my stomach until it felt like I was choking on them. I thought to pull out a book to read, but then I saw them enter the restaurant, led by Zia Ofelia.

It had been over a year since I had seen either Jason Grace or Percy Jackson in person, but if time had changed them, it had only been for the better. They both stood at the same height of about six feet, and their skin glowed a healthy olive color, though Percy was darker than Jason. They also seemed to be a little wider across their chests, their arms—their muscles burst with definition even under their shirt sleeves. They had dressed up than I had ever seen either of them—both wore blue, button down shirts, though Jason matched his light blue one with khakis and Percy’s sea-blue shirt was matched with black slacks.

“When you said you were taking me for lunch, I thought we might be going somewhere a little more low key,” said Jason. “But this is really fancy, Perce.”

“I want to take my mom here for her birthday,” said Percy as they took their seats. “So I want to make sure the food’s okay. I’m sure it’s lovely,” he said, smiling up at Zia Ofelia. “But this is the first birthday I’ve gotten to take her out, so I want everything to go great.”

Zia Ofelia rolled her eyes, but affectionately, and returned her smile. “Would you boys like me to put an order in for antipasto? Or would you like to wait?”

“We’ll wait, please,” said Percy, squinting at the menu. “But thank you.”

Ofelia nodded, saying, “Then your server will be with you in a moment.”

The clinking of water and eyes against glass made me look up to see Matteo di Angelo standing over me. He wrinkled his wide nose at me. “Not exactly my type. You can tell those two are trouble,” he told me in Italian. Then he grinned to let me know it was a joke. “These can’t be your cousins, can they? The beautiful and heroic ones?”

“Please do not draw attention to me,” I hissed. “They don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“That I’m a woman. Matteo, please, just act normal. If you love me.” I made my eyes as wide and as watery as they would go.

Matteo laughed, barking a little too loudly as he set my water glass back down on the table. “Alright, beautiful, I’ll leave it alone. When is your father coming, so we have an idea of when to bring out the antipasto?”

“I said noon,” I replied. “And please, Matteo, for your own safety, don’t act silly around Father. He’s a very serious person, and I don’t think he’ll like it much.”

Matteo frowned, but nodded. “For you, beautiful girl.”

I let out a sigh of relief, able to breathe a little easier as Matteo walked over to Percy and Jason’s table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Will you have any wine today?”

“Oh, no thanks, we’re both underage,” said Percy. “I’ll just have water. Jase, do you want anything else?”

“No, water is fine for me too. Could you maybe explain the antipasto thing though?”

Matteo laughed again, and he began explained what antipasto was and how you could order many different options for a plate, and that it really was sort of like an appetizer for the main course. Percy and Jason nodded as they listened, but still looked hopelessly lost. When Matteo finished his explanation, Percy asked, “Could we maybe get a small sampler to see what we like?”

“If you like, my friend. About how much do you want it to cost, so I know what we can limit it to?”

They worked out the details, and I actually did pick up my book as Matteo began to walk away so it wouldn’t seem like I was listening. When I glanced up at the door, however, which was often, I snuck a glance at their table. Mostly, the two of them talked about upcoming plans for Camp, the Roman/Greek exchange program and school. Percy teased Jason about getting into both West Point and the Air Force Academy. Jason teased Percy about an art exhibition Percy had recently done.

After some time, though, I noticed their voices dropping off and the two of them went completely silent. I looked up at the door, and then I glanced over to see them staring at me. I did my best to look down at my book straight away, trying to make it seem like I was just curious about the other patrons in the restaurant. Really, I strained my ears to hear what they said to each other in low voices.

I did get much, but I did pick up words like “Nico,” and “sword.” Then I heard the word “monster.” Not a minute later, both Percy and Jason got up, and walked away from the table. But they did not leave the restaurant—instead, they walked out of the main room into the hallway that led to the bathroom.

Slumping back into my seat stumped, I had to wonder: were they going to fight a monster? Did they know it was me? What the hell was going on? Before I knew really what I was doing, I was up and out of my seat, following them down the bathroom hall. Also before I knew it, someone grabbed me and pulled me into the men’s bathroom. Jason held me against the bathroom door while Percy snarled, “What have you done with Nico di Angelo?” He had Riptide drawn out, and Jason had me fairly efficient pinned.

Despite the situation, I had to laugh, “I haven’t done anything with Nico di Angelo.”

Jason pulled me forward just a few inches so that he could slam me back against the door. I barely registered his words of, “We’re not joking around!” before I blacked out for a second and came to with Jason on the ground holding his groin, and Percy pointing Riptide at my neck so close it almost nicked me. “Don’t try anything like that, again,” Percy warned. “Now tell us where Nico is, and why you have his sword.”

I gasped a little and reached my hands up to clasp them on top of my head. When Percy had calmed down a bit, and Jason had picked himself up off of the floor, I spoke. “Percy when we first met, you fought off a manticore to save Bianca and I. When she died I blamed you for her death, but when I finally managed to summon her from the dead she told me that I was really angry with her, not you. Do you remember?”

Percy blinked at me. His arm began to quiver a little bit, but he still held Riptide up. “I do. But tell me, what happened when we went to the Underworld?”

“Which time? When were spirited away with Thalia by Persephone? When you were captured by my father? When I bathed you in the Styx?”

Percy grinned at me. He pushed a cap down on Riptide, shrinking it to a pen. “I wasn’t thinking of one in particular, I was just testing.” He reached out and pulled me into a hug. Blankly, I remembered that I was supposed to hug back, but didn’t manage before Percy pulled away

“Couldn’t you have just said all that from the beginning instead of kicking me in the balls?” Jason grunted holding his arms out for me.

I walked forward into his embrace. “You scared me,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “But maybe if you came to see us more this wouldn’t happen.”

“Speaking of,” said Percy. “What are your preferred pronouns, cos? He, she, sie, they? Others which I have forgotten at the moment?”

“What?” I asked, pulling out of Jason’s arms.

“You...” He smiled, his lips pulling apart quickly from his confused look. “Sorry, I suppose I should have asked first. Are you trans, genderqueer or cis?”

“Trans,” I replied, barely able to believe I was having this conversation with Percy Jackson.

“And you are a woman?

“Yes.”

“Do you prefer the ‘she, her, hers,’ set of pronouns, then?”

“Yes.” I furrowed my eyebrows. “How do you know about all of that?”

Percy flushed a little bit and rolled his eyes. “I do read stuff, you know.”

I gave him an extra hug to make up for being mean, and Percy squeezed me back.

“So you’re a girl now?” Jason asked. “Is that why you like boys?”

I glared at him so hard, I could practically smell the death scent that Reyna had mentioned back in California. Jason’s eyes widened. “Shit, Nico, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

I sighed and shook my head. “It’s...” I started to say that it was okay, but it really wasn’t. “That wasn’t cool Jason, but I get why you said it. And I’ve always been a woman, I didn’t suddenly become one one day. And—” I was on a roll and could not feel a bone of timidity or fear in my body. “And I’m queer—I like boys, girls and anyone else who doesn’t think they’re either gender, or that they are both. I don’t know why, and I’m just cool with knowing that I do. Now if you don’t mind, Zia Ofelia will have a fit if she finds out that two guys pulled me into the boys bathroom for a prolonged period of time. So I’m going to step out now.”

I stepped out of the bathroom, a little spring in my step as I walked back into the main room. The spring made me nearly trip over my own feet as I saw Father waiting for me at our table in the corner. Every bit of timidity which had fled me before came rushing back to be absorbed by my cells as I shuffled back to the table.

Matteo poured Father a glass of the Xinomavro as he listed recommendations from the menu. Matteo looked a little flushed, like he sometimes did when he got around a cute boy, and babbled more than I had ever seen him do. Usually, my older friend was always cool, collected and teasing. But now, he just looked like a boy with a crush. At my arrival, Matteo managed to cut himself off at last.

“Thank you, Matteo,” said Father. He smiled, revealing a handsome face amid his long nose and pale, olive skin. “I’m sure all of it will be delicious.”

Matteo blushed. “Di niente, Signor Olympios. Would you like a moment to decide?”

Father took a long sip of his wine and turned to look at me. I nibbled my lip and turned back to Matteo. “If you would give us a moment, please, Matteo, I would like to look over the menu again.”

“Oh, of course, bella Nicolina,” Matteo said with a little bit more of his usual smile.

Father waited until Matteo left the table to drop his smile. “Is this another part of your life you keep hidden?”

“How is not telling you I’m friends with a family of restaurateurs hiding anything?” I sipped my water desperately wishing it was wine. “Are you that angry that I didn’t tell you I was seeing somebody?”

He glared at me. “The point is not that you have kept one thing hidden, but many. How am I to trust you if I do not know that you are willing to tell me anything?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Father, I didn’t think you would be very interested in the minutiae of my life.”

“And how minute is taking a lover?”

I paused, rereading the same menu line four times before I replied, “More minute for her than me.”

“Which means?”

“She broke up with me, Father.”

He made a sort of ‘humph’ noise and turned to read his own menu. “Is there anything else you’ve neglected to tell me?”

I paused to think. “I have friends, outside of the ones I’ve made at the camps. I’m pulling straight A’s and have for the past few semesters. My graduation date is May 15th.” I shrugged. “You know about the tattoos. Percy and Jason are here, but they probably went back to hide in the men’s bathroom when they saw you here.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “Did you invite them here?” I may never have said it, but at least he understood my tenuous relationship with Percy and Jason both.

“No, Percy’s thinking of taking Aunt Sally here for her birthday,” I said. I closed the menu, deciding on a carne pizzaiola. Topping a piece of bread with mozzarella and a sweet olive, I asked, “Dad are you really mad at me for not telling you I had a girlfriend? Or is it something else?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as Percy and Jason slunk back into the room, followed by Matteo who carried a plate of antipasto. He set it down on their table, and with a grin waved a scolding finger at them. Without another word, Matteo sauntered over to our table to take our orders. Dad ordered a cacciuco with a side of plain risotto, and waited until Matteo walked away before he began to speak. “Over the past few years, you have represented me well as a champion Nico. You have never shied away from your work as such, and I have been...” he thought for a moment, “proud to associate your name with mine.

“But your results for the sons of Jason disturbed. You have been captured before, but by monsters and giants—to be taken hostage by mere shades of men is disgraceful, Nicolina.”

I wanted to protest. The smell of the cheese, vegetables and bread drizzled with oil made my stomach rumble at the same time his words made my head spin. Hadn’t he been listening? I had been overwhelmed. I was still not fully recovered from my transformation. I had waited so long to see if there could be a peaceful solution. None of these things Father would hear without complaint. So I only said, “I find myself embarrassed as well, Father.”

He nodded, taking hold of his wine glass with one hand, and bread and cheese with the other. “You ought to be. You are sixteen as you reminded me. You’re a woman now, and one who can and should conquer.” He looked at me over the top of his wine glass as he drank. “And the way you behaved with the younger boys was uncalled for. You are a child of the Underworld, you should have known how it would end for them. Or did you think I would let you keep them?”

Now my face grew hot. I hid my balled fists under the table and didn’t dare look at him. “I know even you are not without your mercy. As far as I judged they were innocents. Still children.”

Father snorted. “You viewed it that way, but they made their choices. The judges reviewed their deeds, and the children seemed quite happy to leave with their brethren. Look at me, Nicolina.” I looked up at him, seeing the fire burn in his dark eyes. “We will not debate this any longer. Eat, you must still be weak if you have not returned to the Underworld.”

I turned away from him a little to see Percy and Jason staring at me, wide eyes. “Kidnapped?” Percy mouthed. I waved him off. The last thing I wanted to do was keep talking about this when I was so ready to forget it forever.

When our meals came, Father attempted to strike up another conversation. “Who are these friends of yours, outside of the camps?”

It was his fourth glass of wine, so I figured that he had loosened up a little. “Spare no detail,” he added as a second thought.

So I spoke, sparing no horribly minute detail about the friends I had made in the years since leaving Westover Hall and by extent Camp Half-Blood. Mostly, they were nice normal people. People who had taken me in at one point or another, people with their own magical ability, people who I met through LGBTQIA issues, people who I met on message boards for MythoMagic. “Then there’s Anubis.”

Across the room Percy sprayed a full mouth of water onto Jason in surprise. Dad looked up and glared at him. “Sorry Uncle,” Percy said, ducking his head. He held out a napkin to Jason, who snatched it away, muttering something about saying sorry to him.

Dad turned his glare on my, arching an eyebrow. “And how did you meet the Egyptian god of funerals?”

“In a graveyard—there’s one down in New Orleans that he likes, and after Bianca I found myself there a lot. It was someplace I could always travel back to. Newb’s nice. He’s down to Earth, you might say.”

“I see,” said Dad, putting his wine glass back down onto the table. “Are there any other friends of note worth bringing to my attention?”

“No, I think Newb is really the only person of note you’ll ever meet or care about,” I said leaning back into my chair. “Well, and you already knew about Chrys.”

Dad leveled a look at me. He stared for minutes. I saw from the corner of my eye Jason and Percy staring at us. At last, Father said, "Pay the check, Nicolina."

I fumbled with my wallet, but pulled out two hundred dollars—probably more than was strictly necessary between the check and a tip, but I liked the di Angelos, so it didn't bother me. Dad didn't object. But, as soon as I laid the money on the table, he took me by the hand. I felt the slick cool of shadow traveling wash over me, and then we both stood in the living room of my apartment.

"Pack," Dad commanded.

"Pack what?" I asked, stumbling away as he released me.

"Clothes, anything you think you cannot live without for a month."

I gaped. "A month? Dad what are you talking about?"

He looked down his nose at me. "You're grounded, Nicolina, pack your things."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not! This is not the very end, but only the beginning. The series should have four other parts (I'm still working out how I want everything divided). I was going to try and post the whole thing for the big bang, but life got in the way (as is wont to do). I will work steadfastly, and try to get on a regular posting schedule. I hope you'll stay tuned for the next posting in the series!


	5. Travels/Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A streak of grey wove through her long black hair which fell over her shoulder in a braid. She had dark olive skin and dark, dark eyes which reminded me of my father. In fact, so did her nose. She wore practical traveling clothes—cargo pants, an insulated jacket, hiking boots and a backpack slung onto her shoulders. She also raised her hands slowly at the sight of my sword. "There now, little one, I'm no one you need to be fighting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a gorey, marked with * at the start and finish, and abuse, marked with **

Dad, much like a regular father, didn't care how much I grumbled as I packed clothes, books and my laptop.

"What about school?" I asked. "I need to graduate, you know. I can't do anything without a high school diploma."

"I've arranged things for you. If you are good, you may attend your graduation ceremony." He looked straight ahead as he spoke, right outside my window and down onto the street.

If I was good! Ha! What was I? Five? "And what about food? I can't eat the stuff of the underworld, I'll get trapped there."

"I've arranged that too," he said.

Well, you can't fight the Lord of the Dead, at least not for long. So, I packed. While raiding my closet, I thought about how people worried for me. Once I had gone two weeks without talking to Chrys, for lack of something to say, and she broke down my door looking for me. After that, Chrys usually tried to come round once a week, if I wasn't feeling chatty. And even if she didn't want to date me anymore, I had a feeling she would see come try to see me. I usually sent out some note that I was going on a quest or the like. There was no telling what any of them would or could do together.

Pulling up a mass text I typed out: "Phone tree! Grounded to underworld. Doing well. Pass it on please." Before sending it out to Percy, Hazel, and Chrys. I had just hit send when Dad snatched it out of my hands.

"You can have it back at the end of the month," he retorted when I tried to protest.

After an hour of combing through my apartment, Dad deemed that I had everything I needed and spirited me away.

 

There isn’t much to say about living in the underworld. I’ve already described some of it.

Dad tried to keep me busy. He made me listen to audiences with him in the morning, and then forced me to learn how to run his household from the matron in the afternoons. Then I would bathe, dress in some extravagant gown, and eat dinner with my father. I devoted evenings to my school work and precious free time. Everything fell into a routine. I never strayed from the routine if I could help it.

The only extraordinary thing to report happened around the end of my second week there. Persephone appeared at the breakfast table. She and Dad flirted all through the meal, and he relegated me to sitting at his left hand. She took over my teachings on how to run the palace, and was even more the harsh taskmaster than the house matron. She disappeared again, shortly before my grounding was up, befouling Dad's temper for the rest of my stay.

Dad had no idea that when I finished my school work two weeks into the month, and just used my computer to keep my friends abreast of my daily life. The seven wrote me daily, especially Hazel, Jason and Percy who gave long missives about missing me. Annabeth and Piper, who I had made aware of my transformation, asked how I was doing and if there was any piece of advice I needed. Leo sent me funny things he found on tumblr, and Frank inquired about my state of being. Anubis had been writing me daily as well and asked that I come see him when I went topside. Chrys and I hadn’t spoken at all, except for a short series of emails where she had asked if I was okay.

But the person I talked to the most was Butch. I got several emails from him everyday. I emailed him before breakfast, when I ate my lunch in my room and then many times during the evening when I worked on homework. I don’t know what it was about Butch. We got along like I never have with another person. perhaps because we were both sarcastic, bitter, dark-humored bastards.

After the month was over, I left. There were no new quests for me, and, well, I missed the sun. So I packed, bid farewell to the Underworld, and I left.

I had had every intent of going to Camp Halfblood for the summer. But fresh off of a second stint of imprisonment, in a rather short period of time, I had no desire for the camp rules to govern my every action. Then there was the matter that I was not out to everyone at camp. I still had no idea how they would react to an open trans person in the same space as them.

Other than wandering about the still wild places of the world, with the occasional shadow travel to someplace where I could get wifi or a cell signal to let everyone know I was still alive, I  had no plans. The still wild places bit was what got me into trouble. But, then again, it also got me out of it.

  
  


I was wandering one day, looking for a place to set up camp, when I came across a clearing. The clearing seemed like a fine place to camp to me. Except then I heard the rustling. Now normally, rustling would mean something harmless like a rabbit, which would have the added bonus of being dinner. This time, a cockatrice sprang forward from the bushes.

A cockatrice is sometimes used as another word for a basilisk. This is not, in the strictest sense, accurate. From what I know, a basilisk is all snake--albeit really freakin' huge and with a stare that will turn you to stone. The front end of a cockatrice, though, is chicken, from the head to the feet--as the body goes back into the wings, it undergoes a strange transformation. Where there would normally be fully feathered wings and a pointy butt of soft down, instead the wings flare out into large, leather monstrosities. The butt, likewise, becomes smooth and scaly, slithering out like the back end of the snake.

Oh, and despite it's beak, a cockatrice somehow also manages to have fangs. Don't ask me, I didn't design it.

The other thing about cockatrice is that since they have the eyes of a chicken, they can see you really well, and sense when you are moving. One startled stumble due to its leap from the brush, and its next leap was to eat me.

I drew out the Black Sword but was not quite fast enough. The cockatrice sunk its fangs into my left arm before I could maneuver my right to cut off its head. With its head severed from its body, the cockatrice only seemed to bite down more quickly. Shaking my arm did nothing. As a last resort I pulled a knife from my belt and pushed it slowly through the monster's skull. At last, it turned to dust, leaving venom and blood to dribble down my arm. (I know what you're thinking. "Nico," you may ask, "why the fuck weren't you wearing a jacket?" Ah well, may I remind you, it's fucking summer in the middle of the fucking day? I put it on after that.)

There wasn't much I could do but clean the wound with disinfectant, take some antivenom Chiron had mixed up for most venomous creatures, and eat a square of ambrosia. I figured I would be alright—demi-god healing and everything. So, as some storm clouds rolled in, I set up camp underneath a large tree.

I had finished running a tarp through some branches over my tent and had begun to light a fire when I heard another rustle. Drawing my sword I berated myself--there could be other monsters close by. But instead a woman came out of the brush.

A streak of grey wove through her long black hair which fell over her shoulder in a braid. She had dark olive skin and dark, dark eyes which reminded me of my father. In fact, so did her nose. She wore practical traveling clothes—cargo pants, an insulated jacket, hiking boots and a backpack slung onto her shoulders. She also raised her hands slowly at the sight of my sword. "There now, little one, I'm no one you need to be fighting."

"I don't exactly know that for sure, though, now do I?" I asked.

In response, she pulled out a Swiss army knife and made a small incision on her arm below her thumb. She bleed quite normally, something I had never quite seen another monster do.

"You could still be manipulating the mist," I insisted, looking into her eyes.

But something about those dark eyes, something about looking into them, made me feel safe. It felt like if I were going to trust one person in the whole world, it should be this woman. It was like no other spell I had ever been under, no charmspeak or illusion. Everything about her was genuine.

I sheathed my sword, and she put up her knife. "My name is Nico," I said, taking a few steps forward and holding out my hand.

She grasped my forearm tightly. "You may call me 'Grandmother,' Nico."

"Really?" I asked.

She snorted. "I'm certainly old enough to be your grandmother, I assure you. Now then, would you mind terribly if I share camp with you tonight?"

"Alright." After all, if she were dangerous, I would prefer her where I could see her, and not out in the bushes where I couldn't.

Grandmother nodded to me, dropping her pack and untying from it a large water canteen. "There's a river, not far back. If you give me yours I'll fill it as well."

"...Sure," I said. It was weird--I could tell this woman was powerful. She seemed, in a way, godlike. That is, she projected the aura of someone of immense multitude while appearing normal. At the same time, though, there was something serene about her. I felt I could trust her in a way I had not felt for a long time. Since Bianca died, if I were honest. At the very least, I was almost certain she wasn't out to poison me.

When she returned from the river, I had a fire going. The initial burst of heat, plus being around open flame had prompted me to remove my jacket. Thus, when Grandmother handed me my canteen, she saw the wrapping of bandages. "Run afoul of your knife?" she asked.

"Ran afoul of a cockatrice, actually," I replied, wondering if she would believe me.

Her canteen nearly slipped from her fingers, she only caught it by the strap--had it been open it would have spilled water everywhere. "A cockatrice? How long ago?"

"Maybe an hour, now?" I said. "I took anti-venom."

"What does it have in it? What are the ingredients, child, tell me quick, your life is in danger."

I didn't know what Chiron had mixed together as the anti-venom, so I merely dug through my rucksack and pulled it out to show her. She pulled the cork stopper out and smelled it. She stopped the bottle, shaking her head as she went. "It's not there. Did you eat any ambrosia? Or drink nectar?"

"I--yes, Grandmother."

"Then you may yet live." She opened her canteen and doused the fire I had just gotten started and kicked up dirt over it to make sure it was out. Before I could protest, she gripped me by both shoulders. "Tell me child, have you any fast means of transportation?"

"I can shadow travel," I said, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"Good," she said, with a decisive nod. "Now, you must trust me, Nico. Can you trust me?"

"No," I said. It was not an objection, but a fact. I must say that as Grandmother gripped me tight and questioned me, I felt compelled to answer in an honest way. The simple fact of it was, I could not trust someone whom I had just met. I didn't trust a lot of the people I had known for years.

“Good,” she said with a swift nod. “Better that you tell the truth than lie and get us both in trouble. Alright then, Nico, I’ll tell you exactly what I am about to do. I’m going to project an image into your mind. I’m going to keep that projection up until you shadow travel us to that place. After which you will likely pass out. After which, I will tend to you and make sure you do not die. I will never invade your mind without your permission. I will not hurt you—at least no more than is strictly necessary to heal you. I swear this to you by the golden age gone by, under punishment by fear, and on the River Styx. Does that suit you?”

It did.

“Then get ready child,” she said. She slid her long, thin fingers up my neck to my temples.

I saw leagues pass as if I were a bird in the sky and then, I swooped down to a large tree, large enough that it must have stood for a millenia. There was a home built into the center of it—no not built. Built was entirely the wrong word. The tree had grown as if its trunk had split out in the center, leaving a large open space in the middle running out into a cylinder, weaving bark limbs back together on the outer edges to make a series of windows and a singular door. It was sparsely decorated with pillows and blankets. A lamp of some sort stood next to a crude lap desk.

“Take us, Nico,” Grandmother urged. “Take us!”

And then we were there, in the strange tree house that Grandmother called her own.

True to her word, I passed out just as soon as I realized we were safe.

 

I woke again with a start what must have been hours later—from what I could see by the woven tree windows it had grown dark outside. Humidity hung in the air so thickly I could taste it on my tongue. I had lain on a pile of plush pillows, and I felt the stuffed swish and expand when I shot up from my sleep. Grandmother’s fingers pressed into my shoulders, in between the bone, pushing me back down. “Rest child, you still have a fever.”

“What did you do?” I asked. I felt nearly as weak as I had after Hera had transformed my body.

“Drew out as much of the poison as I could, dosed you with a proper anti-venom and then began the rest of the detoxification process,” she said. I heard the sound of water sloshing around in a bowl, then trickling down like a small stream. Grandmother pressed a cool cloth into my forehead. She lifted my back up and piled up pillows underneath my back. “I need to feed you broth and water. Can you drink?”

At the mention of drinking, my throat parched. “Yes please.”

She gave me water first and then tipped a cup of broth ever so slowly on my lips so that the broth might trickle down my throat. I desperately wanted to beg for more, but I was too occupied drinking and thanking whatever gods listening for broth and water. Sleep, as well as gratitude, buzzed in my mind. I found myself falling asleep even as I drank down the food and water.

Grandmother chuckled, wiped a prickled cotton across my chin and wet my cool compress one more time. She brushed back hairs wet with sweat and water, which stuck to my forehead, back toward my scalp and kissed my cheek. “Rest, sweet girl.”

 

The next time I woke, daylight streamed into the tree house. I still felt weak, but it was no struggle to sit up and look around. I didn’t see Grandmother anywhere. I did see a privy, which is what I had been looking for. I stood, minding my spinning head, and took baby steps toward a seat vaguely resembling a toilet. I peered through before I unzipped, to make sure I had the right of things. There was a hole underneath the seat that was wide enough so that I could see that it piped out of the tree onto the canopy.

“That’s only for piss.”

I whirled, my wits and racing heart almost eliminating the need for a john, and saw Grandmother standing in her kitchen. She pointed, with a knife in her hand, toward where I stood. “If you need to shit, there’s a bucket. Add a little dirt in, and when you’re feeling better I’ll show you how I scatter it. Do you eat meat, by the way?”

“Not a lot,” I said.

“Good, I’m a vegetarian.” She went back to chopping, focusing on the veg that lay strewn on her cutting board. “You can go about your business, I promise I won’t look.”

I watched as she turned back to her cutting board before I unbuttoned my pants. I tried not to concentrated on anything in particular, except maybe the toilet. It was sort of interesting to watch everything spiral down the hole and trickle down to the ground. Is that weird? Maybe I was still a little loopy from being poisoned.

I finished, shook, tucked in and buttoned up. I turned to Grandmother, who was still chopping up vegetables, though she had moved on to a different type. “How do you feel about soup?” Grandmother asked.

“I like soup,” I said, trying to follow the tree wall around to the kitchen.

“You won’t make it that way,” said Grandmother as she pointed her knife at me. “Try walking straight across. I’ll come and help you if you need it.”

I surveyed the room as she wiped down the knife and stood. It wasn’t that far to the kitchen area—more importantly, it wasn’t that far to pile of pillows in front of the kitchen area. I let go of the wall.

Feeling a little like an infant taking her first steps, I kept my eyes on Grandmother as I put one foot in front of the other. My head swam faster with each small step I took. My mouth tasted horribly dry, and I could feel sweat run down my face. I hated being like this, and it seemed to happen all too often. No wonder I was never as strong as Jason or Percy; I was always recovering from being left in a jar, or captured by shades or being bitten by a cockatrice.

Grandmother caught me before I even realized I was falling. “You made it a good five feet. That’s progress. Now it’s just a few more to rest. I’ll hold you as we go.” She hummed in my ear as we walked, and then she let me fall into the pillows. I must have passed out or fallen asleep in an instant, because the next thing I knew, Grandmother was shaking me a little, holding out a cup of water. “Drink,” she said. “You’re dehydrated.”

I guzzled down the water. “Thank you.”

She refilled the cup and left a pitcher by my side. “Now,” said Grandmother, picking up the knife and taking it to an unsliced vegetable—something which vaguely resembled a squash. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing out in the wild so that you might be bit by a cockatrice of all things.”

“I suppose you could say I had a fight with my father,” I mumbled into my cup.

“What sort of fight?” Grandmother asked. She did not look up at me, but kept her eyes on the vegetables before her.

“...the sort of fight that ended poorly.” I took a long drink after that. When I finished, I found Grandmother had looked up from her chopping. “So, why did you choose to make your home out here?”

She smiled, a short, quick quirk of her lips which did not much expand past before they receded again. Her tongue darted out to press down a fresh coat of saliva. “It reminded me of my home—where I grew up as a child, at least. I’ve had many different homes, over the years. I suppose this one will be no different in the end.” She frowned a little at the end, staring off into the open air. Grandmother shook her head after a moment and then looked down to me. “Listen, Nico, I won’t force you to talk about your father. But it seems to me you may need to before long. And when you are ready to, I will listen.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said, refilling my cup of water.

Grandmother sighed. “Oh, but my dear child, I think you need to.”

 

I won’t bore you will details of my recovery. It was like many other recoveries, filled with sleep and lots of water. Only, unlike other recoveries I had Grandmother to feed me and put me through homespun physical therapy.

She woke me when she deemed fit and made me sit up and talk to her, or play games. She would have me walk around the room to regain my strength. Slowly, as I began to stay awake for prolonged periods of time, Grandmother introduced me to chores to be done around her home. She taught me to spin, where to put everything in her tree home, how to properly sweep the floors and beat out all of the linens. I began to help cook in the kitchen, and when I was well enough, to fetch the food from the plants around us.

We went each day to fetch water and explore the surrounding area. Grandmother like to sketch the local wildlife and collect plant samples. I began to suspect that the tree house was not her first home—I still did not know how she had warped the tree or gotten it to grow in such a way, but the more time I spent with her, the more I realized that she was a powerful, and extremely intelligent being.

“Do you catalog species everywhere?” I asked one day that we spent in the forest.

I paused about halfway through my set of push ups, having grown strong enough to once again regularly exercise, and Grandmother was humming and hawing over a plant.

“Yes,” she said. “Although, these days, it’s to see how they are affected by the rapid human growth and the foul things the humans pollute the planet with.”

I nibbled my lip, focusing on the ground as I bent my arms and ascended upward with great purpose. “There are people trying to change that, you know.”

She looked up at me, dark eyes blinking. “Of course, my dear! I’m angry, but I know they’ll change their ways. I have great hope that it will happen before the planet dies completely. All civilizations go through a time of excess before they come to a time of humility and recuperation. Those ‘developed’ people who care nothing for the environment will do the same. They will learn: to care for their world, and to help their fellows in a way that does not degrade them. All peoples learn eventual. It will take time, but I’ve lived long enough to know that change happens, grain by grain, seed by seed.”

“You sound like you’ve seen a lot of this before,” I said. I dropped to my belly and rolled onto my back. As I began my sit ups, I asked, “Where do you come from, Grandmother?”

Even bobbing up and down I could see her smile. “That is a story I will tell you one day, Nico, but today is not that day. Finish with your exercises. I think it is time we got some supper and headed home.”

As I counted to thirty sit ups, I thought that I liked the sound of making a home with Grandmother. The woman was wise and kind, and, though she had only met me a few weeks ago, she seemed to care for me. Either that, or she was planning to eat me. I couldn’t quite tell at this point.

 

As I grew healthier, not only did Grandmother assign me more chores around her home, but she also had advice about what to do to make myself stronger.

“Get up and go for a run,” she said, shaking me awake as dawn crept up on the horizon. Sadly, she did this every morning there after.

“Strengthen your back with your abdominal muscles,” she advised as I did my daily sit ups. “Roll onto your stomach and raise your arms and legs. Hold them there for a few seconds, then you can let them drop.”

“You need to be more limber,” she decided one day. We spent a few hours doing yoga.

Then one day, she decided we were going to spar.

“Oo-kaaay,” I said. “But you haven’t got a sword?”

“You don’t know that,” said Grandmother with a snort. “Besides we won’t be sparing with live steel. In any case, you need the practice.” She tossed me a long stick, about the size of the Black Sword.

I looked up for further direction, but Grandmother was already charging me. For an old woman she sure was quick! I barely had time to block, and when I did, she changed the direction of her swing and rapped my knuckles, causing me to drop my stick. “Ow!” I cried shaking my hand out. “What was that for?”

“You didn’t think I would put up much of a fight, did you?” she asked, holding her stick out like a sword. “Pick it up, and let’s try again.”

I toed my foot under the stick and flicked it up to eye level where I caught it. Grandmother only rolled her eyes at my anime move, before she came at me again.

Our sticks clashed back and forth—Grandmother was much better than me. She struck fast and hard. It wasn’t long before I felt my skin slick with sweat, and not much longer after that did the salty taste creep into my mouth as I panted from running, dodging and fighting back. But Grandmother was also a good teacher, as well as a good swordsman. She would correct my stance, my grip, my swing, anything that I did wrong and then had me do it again.

After about the fourth or fifth time Grandmother “killed” me, I simply lay back on the ground and decided I was truly dead. “You won’t learn that way,” she told me.

“Can’t learn anymore,” I said. “I’m dead. I’ve died. You’ve killed me.” I giggled, sucking up a big gulp of air through my mouth. It tasted of ozone and rain.

Grandmother shook her head and laughed at me. She, leaning on the stick, sat down on the ground next to me. “I suppose that is enough for today. You can rest for a bit before we head home.”

As I caught my breath, slowly getting high on the oxygen, of which sparring had deprived me, thoughts tumbled over in my head too fast for me to catch. Before I knew what I was saying, or why I was saying it, or could stop myself I spoke three horrible words, “He hit me.”

“What?” Grandmother leaned over me, brushing my bangs, which had stuck to my forehead, out of my eyes. “Who hit you, dear?”

After my first admission, I found I could not hold back. “My father did.”

Grandmother did not speak. She ran her hands through my sweaty, dirt covered hair. I think she knew, though, that once I started my admission, a confession of sorts, that I would not be able to stop.

“He grounded me,” I said. “He took away my phone—would have taken away my computer too, but I needed that for school. He said I had to spend one month in the Underworld with him. I...I don’t mind the Underworld, but for a whole month? I couldn’t see the sun or any of my friends. I was so used to wandering around, after the first day I started going crazy. But Dad forced me to listen to audiences with me, and I was the one running the palace. I guess it was fine after a while. After a while I got used to it, there was a routine.

“But then after the month was up, I asked for my phone back. I just wanted to call my sister and some of my friends. I wanted to hear their voices. But he got so angry... He told me I needed to figure out where I belonged. He said that I was either going to be a part of the Underworld or not. And if I loved him, I would pick him.”

I wiped at my eyes. They were so wet, they spilled over, running down my cheeks, taking dirt and sweat with them. I began to choke and sob—I hate crying for all that I do a lot of it. And with my tears, Grandmother’s face morphed into that of Dad’s. He stood over me, looming as he was wont to do.

**

“You cannot be in both worlds, Nico,” he hissed. His black aura showed against his skin, and he began to grow before my very eyes.

My heart lept in my chest, beating so fast it made my stomach drop. I wanted to run. I wanted to puke. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I stood my ground. “But, Father, isn’t...isn’t that the whole point of being a demi-god? That...that I’m both, that I can do both, that I live in both worlds?”

“I’m offering you a home!” he cried. Actually, I thought Dad might really start crying. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

It felt like someone had knocked the air out of me. “Yes...” The answer came out as if I were choking, gasping on it, trying to force it back down. But a home without my friends? A home without my sister? A home where I couldn’t leave? A home where I would stay until the day I died and everyday thereafter. “But Dad...this...this isn’t... I can’t live here. I can’t stay here...I love you, but I...”

His voice went quiet, no trace of hiss. “If you loved me, you would stay,” he said.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t say something like that.” I looked him dead in the eye. “How many times did you tell me I wasn’t good enough? How many times have you threatened my friends or even me?”

“That’s all in the past!”

“Even if it is, you can’t just expect me to forget! You can’t expect me to live in a place where I can never see the sun or my sister or my friends!”

“A place where I live every day! I place where I am every day, is that it?”

“That isn’t what I said!” I stomped my foot as his dark aura began to appear as he paced back and forth.

“You meant it,” he said, jabbing a finger in my direction.

I felt my feet slide back on the floor, pushed by some unknown force. I stumbled a little.

Dad only sneered at me. “Can’t live with your horrible father, can you Nico?”

A snarl welled up in me and escaped before I realized it. “Maybe if you didn’t act like this, you wouldn’t be such a terrible father!”

“Oh, act like what?”

“Like you care one minute, then the next as if I’ve stabbed you in the back!”

“Dammit, Nicolina! I do care about you! You are my child—my own life’s blood!”

“But I’ll still never be good enough for you will I, Dad? You always find fault with me.”

He laughed. The temperature in the room dropped. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Dad stopped dead in his tracks, his voice dropping down nearly to a whisper. “But you were at fault, weren’t you Nico? Let yourself get caught, let yourself get fucked—”

“I never let him touch me!”

“Even if you didn’t, you still needed an entire Roman cohort to rescue you! Always getting captured, always needing to be saved!” He stalked toward me, surging forward like a panther pouncing on its prey.

I didn’t have time to run away, and his reminders of my failures didn’t make me want to. God or not, I rushed forward, and met my father halfway. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, is that right? But ‘don’t’ isn’t even really an option with you. Because you need me, don’t you Dad? You need a pathetic, lousy, useless, little half-blood to do the work you are incapable of doing, elder god!”

“Do not speak to me that way,” he hissed, the volume of his voice raising up again. “I am your father and your king—you will show me some respect!”

I screamed, “If you were half the father or king you pretended to be, then maybe I would!”

My ass hit the floor, and I bounced against the obsidian tile before I hit my back and my head against something. Dizzy, I looked up. Dad stood at least fifteen feet—or was it twenty? This were starting to blur, and he was moving backward and forward in my vision—his hand was outstretched. It was when I saw it there, his hand, still hovering in the air, that my face back to throb. I tried moving my jaw. It wouldn’t move. At least, it didn’t feel like it was moving. I couldn’t really feel it at all. I tried to bring my hands up against my face, but I found I could feel those either.

In the next second, Dad was no longer across the room from me. Instead he knelt in front of me. “Nico! Darling, mi cara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He placed his hand on the back of my head. I felt the pressure and fuzz, boring down on me so hard I had not realized it was there, lift of from my brain. I felt his hand run down my spine, and a finger pushed into my vertebrae, realigning them. I gasped—I tried to gasp—as he realigned my spine. I wanted to whimper as he pushed his bony fingers into my tail bone, which I felt heal in three or four places.

As more of me healed, I became acutely aware of the numbness on my face. How even after most of the pain was gone, I still could not feel my jaw. I imagined the bone was more mashed potato like than steel at that time. I imagined it was so painful that the nerves had simply shut down.

Dad pushed my jaw to one side. His fingers kneaded and reshaped me. Pain flared up, but it died away before I could cry out.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated again and again as he healed me. He chanted it like hymn or a prayer. “I’m so sorry, Nico, I didn’t mean it.”

I heard his petition, but all I could focus on were his blood soaked hands. Had I bleed somewhere so profusely to cover most of his hands, and still have enough to watch the blood drip down off his fingers?

“Did he ever say that to you?” I asked, as the droplets fell from his skin and collided with the floor.

“Did who, dearest?” asked Dad.

“Did Kronos ever tell you he was sorry?” Dad vibrated at the mention of his father. I knew I shouldn’t have said his name, but a body like Kronos was no grandfather of mine. “Did he ever hurt you and tell you he was sorry and didn’t mean it. And did you believe him?”

“Yes.” The word hit the air so softly, it almost didn’t didn’t exist.

“But he kept doing it, didn’t he?” I asked. I sniffled. “And so you know why I have to leave.”

Dad’s face fell. Black eyes welled with tears. He opened his mouth but did not speak. Instead, he began to sing. His voice was not his own, but higher, sweeter. I blinked at the strange sight of my father’s deep voice replaced by something very different. And when I opened my eyes again, I found myself staring up at Grandmother once more.

**

My head was in her lap and my face still wet with tears. She had her fingers tangled into my hair, and I found her mouth producing the lovely voice. I was back in the forest.

I tried to move, to cover my face, to turn away.

“Shh, darling-heart,” said Grandmother. “It’s alright. Just cry. You can cry if you want to.”

“Can I,” I broke off, a sob choking me. “Can I have a hug?” I managed to ask after a moment.

“Of course you may,” said Grandmother.

We shuffled around in the dirt until we could wrap our arms around each other. We staid there, entangled, Grandmother holding me, until the sun was setting and ozone hung in the air as clouds rolled across the sky. “Are you well, darling-heart?” asked Grandmother.

“Yes,” I said. I sniffled just a little bit. I looked up at her. Grandmother’s black eyes looked back at me. Their depths almost drew me in, but kindness and joy caught me and bolstered me up. “Can we go home?” I asked.

Grandmother chuckled, tapping my nose. “I think that might be best, darling.” She leapt to her feet and pulled me up afterwards. “Let’s go home.”

 

*

That night, I dreamed of the Underworld.

It took forever for me to fall asleep. I stared at the ceiling making patterns in the wood. But lying next to Grandmother, listening to her even breaths go in and out, I drifted off, still trying to memories the lines of grain as the swirled around before my eyes.

I was in the palace, after Father had grounded me. It was the first night...or maybe it some time later one. In my dream I wore a royal purple dress, but that first night I remember dressing in red. Still Father beckoned to me as he the first night there, “Nico, come and sit at my right hand.” 

I remember rolling my eyes.

We were in the dining hall, I realized as I looked around in the dream. Of course. It was supper time, so naturally, that’s why I was there.

I took the seat at his right hand. Before me sat a plate arrayed with a steak, collard greens and mashed potatoes. A jeweled cup held wine and a crystal glass sparkled with water. The smell of butter melted into the steak and the sweet, sticky scent of the wine lifted straight from the cup to my nose.

“Are you not hungry?” Father asked. He raised a perfectly cubed piece of steak to his lips. He grunted a little as he chewed. “The chef did a marvelous job, Nico. Really, it’s fantastic. Grass fed like you like, when you eat meat.” He washed down the slice of steak with a drink of wine and watched me expectantly.

“Dad, I can’t eat this,” I mumbled.

“Speak up.”

“I can’t eat this.”

“And why not?”

I looked up at him, watching him chew another slice of steak. “Because I’ll be trapped here, that’s why. If I eat the food of the Underworld, I can never leave.”

He waves me off, using his steak knife to gesticulate. In the dream he reached far enough forward that he pokes holes inside of me, like I’m made of papier-mâché. That did not happen. Not really. I don’t...think that happened. Blood spills out of me like I’ve tipped over a pitcher of red-colored corn syrup all over my purple dress.

“The food of the Underworld,” says Father, still gesturing with his knife, “only traps those who are not of the Underworld. You’re my daughter so it won’t trap you.”

“It won’t?” I don’t scoot back as the knife plunges into me. I don’t even flinch. By now, I have five or six holes spurting blood.

“Of course not! It doesn’t trap Thanatos or Hecate, or your stepmother who is queen here. All of them are free to come and go as they like.”

“But I’m not a god.”

Father shrugs, sticking the bloody knife into the steak so it stands straight up. He turns toward me, leaning his elbows on the table. “Look kid, you gotta take a few risks in life. So what, you’re not a god. Eat the damn steak, and get over yourself. Where else do you think you’re gonna find food down here?”

“Oh,” I said. I looked down into my lap where the blood is pooling in my skirt. Oddly enough, you think I would feel it running down my legs, or sticking to my skin, but all I could feel was the cool silk of the cloth as my blood soaked dress clung to my skin.

*

The scene changed in my dream. I lay back against the black sheets of my bed. I could see myself lying in the bed, my white dressing gown a stark contrast to the dark sheets. I took a breath, but found I could only shudder. Air. There was no air around me, no air to pump with my lungs.

I plugged my nose with my fingers and let the shadows take me. It felt like water swirled around me. I could see nothing ahead nor behind. I was neither hot nor cold. The shadow water, black as oil, but not so thick, drained off of me. Soon, there was no water left, but in its place was a sea of dust.

I had landed in the middle of a desert, nothing around me but sand, cacti and a few nocturnal creatures. I gasped—

Had my lungs always felt so tight before now? Or were they expelling the metallic breath of the underworld? The air felt dry and smelt maybe like something had burned and then cooled, but it was so much better than the Underworld.Goose flesh rose on my arm, and I rubbed it down with my fingers. It felt like my skin could come loose in the cool night air, felt like I could peel off the burn scars of before.

I have to go back, I thought, squatting in the dust. I have to go back, or he’s just going to come and get me.

I closed my eyes and landed on my bed with a thump and whoosh as dust flew out around me. I opened my eyes and Dad stood before me in my bedroom doorway. “You didn’t believe me, did you?”

“You’ve lied to me before to get what you want,” I retorted. I brought my knees up to my chest and burrowed into them. The fire in the hearth did nothing to warm me after the desert had cooled me.

Dad frowned at me—no explosion of rage or Death stink colored him—only a frown to show he did not understand. “Don’t do it again,” he said at last. “Or you will be punished. Now rest, tomorrow you will hear audiences with me.”

He left, the door slamming shut of its own accord behind him. My ears rang from the noise.

They kept ringing.

And ringing.

And...

 

I reached out and smacked the ringing thing. After a few minutes I opened my eyes. Slowly I focused in on the thing which had been ringing in my ears, which was now on the floor, though in one piece. It was an alarm clock.

I looked around and saw that I was not in Grandmother’s tree home but in an ordinary bed room. It looked to be about twelve feet by sixteen feet. The walls were a melon green, and dark curtains blocked out light from normal size windows. There was a desk, a chest-of-drawers, a bookshelf and a bed upon which I now sat up.

“Grandmother?” I called when I saw an open door.

“In the kitchen, darling heart!” she called back.

The black sword hung sheathed over a desk chair. I grabbed it, drawing it out, and opened up the door to the bedroom. It led out into a perfectly normal looking hallway. Grandmother, or someone, had painted the walls a melon green, light shone down from multiple skylights, and along the corridor, there were three other doors. Two were open, and I could see they led to a bathroom and a linen closet. The other was closed. I decided to let it remain so. Better that than having some monster come out after me.

Hurrying down the hallway I came to a room which was a open kitchen-dining-living room combo. Grandmother stood at the stove, leaning over a pan as she cooked. She looked up at me briefly. “Why do you have your sword out, my love? You won’t need that to cut your breakfast.”

“I thought it was a trap,” I said, lowering my sword a little. I raised it again a moment after. “Actually, I’m still not sure if this is a trap.”

Grandmother pulled the pan off of the burner as she frowned at me. She came around the island where the stove was, which blocked the kitchen from the dining room, and pushed a finger onto the flat of my blade pushing it down. “Not everything is a trap, darling heart. Go put up your sword and come have breakfast.”

I frowned, but she just shoo’d me away with the flick of her wrist. As a show of defiance, I came back with my sword sheathed and hung it over the back of my chair. Grandmother raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“So where are we?” I asked, as she placed before me plate of poached eggs, spinach and fruit. A cup of espresso landed next to the plate. I cradled the cup in my hands, taking small, but frequent sips. Not the way one should drink an espresso, but I had missed it.

“Maryland,” said Grandmother. “Just outside of Baltimore.”

“And how did we get here?” I asked, cutting into my egg, watching runny yolk ooze out.

“Oh, the usual sort of way,” said Grandmother, passing me some toast with which to sop up my eggs. “I shifted space around a little, and here we are.”

I wanted to protest that that was not usual in the least. But for a god, or whatever Grandmother was, it must have seemed plenty usual. I stared at her only for a moment. Then I decided that I didn’t want to know and tucked into my food with some gusto. Breakfast turned into a quiet affair.

When we had finished the food, we both sat back, drinking the coffee.

“So,” Grandmother said at last, placing her empty cup next to her plate. “Do you think you are ready to leave me and rejoin the world?”

“That’s what this is about?” I asked. “That’s why we’re in Maryland?”

“It is.” She stood, collected the dirty dishware and moved over to the sink. “I certainly think you’re ready, but if you want to stay with me a little while longer, I won’t begrudge you that.”

My mouth ran dry. I twisted around in my seat, locking my elbow behind the chair to look at her as she moved around the kitchen. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Grandmother looked up from where she had begun to wash the dishes. “Yes, you do. Nico, dear, there’s reticence, and then there’s being obtuse.”

“Alright then, well I don’t know if I’m ready to go to camp or...or to talk to my father.” I choked out the words. But I had admitted the worst of it. I tried to tell myself that should make it easier to talk about it all together. I knew it was a lie, but the lie made me a little stronger.

“And that’s fine,” said Grandmother. “And I won’t tell you you have to do either. I think it would be good for you, certainly, if you went and confronted them. But I am not you. I will say that I don’t think you should hide yourself away forever. If nothing else you should spend the summer getting school supplies, eating fine food in that loud city of yours and spending time with the people you love who you know you can trust.

“I must caution you, my dearest, that you cannot outrun misfortune. It will catch up with you eventually, and one day you will have to do something other than to run away from it.”

I rested my chin on my arm—the stretch was starting to hurt a little now, in my torso and in my shoulder. I shifted to get a little more comfortable. Grandmother looked up from where she was drawing a sink of soapy water. Our brown eyes met. “Go take a shower,” she told me.

“I still don’t know if I’m going anywhere,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You still stink.”

I snorted. Standing, I swung the sheath of the Black Sword over my shoulder and walked back down the hall to my room.

The bathroom was a little old and a little grungy where the porcelain met the caulk. But other than that it was just fine. Taking a shower again after sponge, spot-cleaning baths was amazing. I wanted to stay in the shower forever, even after I had washed, but Grandmother knocked on my door, “Don’t waste water! I’ve laid out clean clothes for you.”

I rolled my eyes, but turned off the shower.

I did spend extra time getting dry, just sitting on the toilet, humming to myself as I ran the towel over my body again and again. After some time, when it no longer felt relaxing to sit quietly alone, I went to get dressed.

The clothes grandmother had laid out for me were pretty plain: nude underwear with no frills; a white, a-line skirt; and a white, silk, sleeveless blouse with a modest scoop neck. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I thought I looked like a schoolgirl on the way to take her first communion.

“What do you think?” Grandmother asked, when I came into the living room area. She offered me a pair of flats that sort of looked like crochet. If I had to bet, I would have said they were made from hemp.

“Not my usual style,” I said, pulling the shoes on. “Do you have something that will hold back my hair?”

From absolutely nowhere she pulled a scarf, also white, and motioned for me to turn away. She pulled the scarf down right at the edge of my scalp, tying it so that it separated my hair from the nape of my neck and kept it out of my eyes. Grandmother managed this without snagging my hair at all, which was something I never managed to do. But what really surprised me was when she slipped a chain she always wore, adorned with golden tear-drops, around my neck. “Would you keep this safe for me?” she asked. “At least for a little while.”

“You don’t know that I’m going,” I said. But I did.

“Are you?”

I turned around just to frown at her. All Grandmother did was laugh. “Oh my dear. I’m going to miss you.”

“You could always keep me forever,” I suggested.

Grandmother nodded as she walked toward the table. “I could,” she agreed, swiping something off of the wooden surface. “But I doubt you would be happy in the end. These are also for you.”

She held out two envelopes. “The first is for something you’ve been looking for for some time. The second is in case you ever need to find me again—really best if you only use that in emergencies, alright?”

“Alright,” I said, taking the thick paper in my hands. I looked back up at Grandmother. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I threw my arms around the older woman. “I love you, Grandmother. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, my dear.” She squeezed me tight. When she pulled back, she took my chin between her thumb and forefinger and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Godspeed, Nico.”

Then I was standing on a sidewalk, the summer sun pressing down on me. I stepped back, closer to the building flush against the sidewalk to get into the shade. I still had the two envelopes in my hand, and satchel hung off my shoulder. I had a sneaking suspicion that it held all of the contents that my old dufflebag had.

I rummaged around in it and found a few surprising items. The first was the Black Sword, sheathed and hanging by some kind of hook. The second was my cell phone, still in its original black otter box with a Welcome To Nightvale sticker on it. I ran my thumb over the screen, smudging oil left behind there. How had grandmother gotten it back? How had she done any of it really? Moving her how through space, putting the contents of my duffle—which by way of a little more rummaging, I discovered were all there—in a fabric satchel (probably more hemp) without the seams straining.

If Grandmother was no god, I almost feared to know her origins.

I frowned at the satchel, and in looking down at it, I saw the two envelopes lying on the ground. I must have dropped them in all my searching. Plucking them off the ground, I opened up the top envelope.

Inside was a single card, made of the same heavy paper as its keeper. The side facing out was blank, but turning it over revealed a few lines scripted in a flowing hand.

 

Antonio di Angelo

20 Long River Road,

Baltimore, Maryland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I finally did the thing. I had chapter five mostly completed around the time that I posted the first four chapters of DoH, but I wanted to get a little a head before I started any kind of a regular posting schedule. I've finished chapter six and started chapter 7 and I have a rough idea of where I'm going with this story that some how got out of hand. This chapter is a little less beta'd than the previous ones, but it still under went heavy revision.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Riptide Big Bang on tumblr. Partially inspired by Butterflies Drink the Dew of Your Thighs, I've wanted to write a LGBTQIA!Nico fic since House of Hades hit the shelves. With Nico's sexuality never specified, and all of the discussion around him, an interesting idea hit me. What if Nico was trans and some kind of queer? I was also inspired by Laverene Cox, Janet Mock and my own exploration of the QUILTBAG community as I began to discover my own sexual orientation. 
> 
> All that said, feedback is much appreciated. I am a cis-person, so I am still learning, and I have no experience when it comes to being trans or gender queer. If you have feedback, this is a safe space to leave it and I am more than willing to learn.
> 
> Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Much love, K.


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